The Ripred We Never Knew
by 451ian Dragonist
Summary: Father said nothing, merely stood there and studied me for a long time. Finally, after many minutes had gone by, he spoke, slowly and sadly. “Ripred, I think that you might be a rager.”
1. Ripred's Pup Days

Okay, first fanfic (takes a deep breath)... so this is basically the life story of Ripred, up until and including the time of the Underland Chronicles. And Let me tell you, it is not easy to detail the life of a character as complex and multi-layered as Ripred. Written in first person.

**Disclaimer:** (geez, do we really need one of these in EVERY story?) I don't own the Underland Chronicles or any of its characters. Sadly. If only I could come up with an idea half so good.

* * *

The cave where I was born. Even now, so many years later, after all I've seen and done, I still find myself longing every now and then to go back there. Perhaps sometime I will, just for sentimentality's sake.

You see, we rats have a much better memory than humans. I can still recall, to a certain degree, the day of my birth. The confusion, the pain as a million new sensations hit me, the darkness. Yes, the darkness. Our cave wasn't pitch black; there were certain fungi growing on the walls that provided some light on their own, but not nearly enough to be considered reliable light, more the kind of light that a glow-in-the-dark shoelace might give. For me, being born wasn't going "into the light," merely moving from one darkness to another. No, I didn't truly experience light as we know it until-

But that part comes later. For now, I was nothing but a tiny, shivering pup, who had just left the belly of his mother. Looking back years later, I often wish I'd stayed. But it's far too late to do anything about that now. I came into the world, and I left my mark on it. Whether or not it was a good mark is up to you to judge. It was certainly a lasting one.

...

Pushing… screaming… pain and panic and confusion… and I was through. Immediately, the smells and sounds of the world hit me like a waterfall, threatening to overwhelm me with their sheer force. I had no idea what I had entered, but it was certainly different from what I had left.

Once I was free, I rolled away and fell to the ground. It wasn't a rough fall, as I was in my parents' nest at the time, but for someone new to the concept of sensation, it was agonizing. I lay there for a minute or two, then, using my legs, I pushed myself slowly upward. I could barely stand, trembling on those legs which might as well have been four twigs, but after a while I was able to creep forward, toward the great shape I had come from. I fell about a billion times, but kept going until I had reached my mother.

Also present were several other creatures, about the same size as me. They were still stumbling around, bumping into each other and squealing shrilly, but none seemed quite as unsteady as I was. I tried to use my eyes to analyze them, but they seemed useless. I was not yet trained enough to properly echolocate, so I was helpless, with only my ears and nose to guide me.

After a minute or so, which to a five-minute-old rat pup must have seemed like a length of several years, I noticed that the other small shapes had stopped stumbling around and squealing. They were all busy with- what? I sensed them next to our mother, and suddenly I was aware of the great pain in my stomach, and knew the only way it could be satisfied.

Walking less clumsily now, I stumbled over to Mother and tried to latch myself on. The other pups, however, were blocking the way, keeping me from drinking my fill. I was desperately hungry, but I couldn't find a place to suckle anywhere. I pushed and tugged at the bodies of the other pups, tried to slip between them, crawl over them, but I couldn't. It was several minutes of agony for me before I pushed one out of the way and revealed an unused spot where I could latch on.

I drank happily for several minutes, but somehow, no matter how much I suckled, the pangs in my belly could not be satisfied. The other pups, who had gotten to Mother before me, had drunk all the best and richest milk. I got only a thin, watery substance which wasn't even worth drinking, even though I stayed latched on for a long time after all the other pups had stopped and lain down on the soft ground, wearied by even the tiniest effort.

Eventually I joined my siblings on the ground, with the energy to do nothing more than lie there, where there was nothing to do but think… and sleep…

When I awoke, the hunger pangs were stronger than ever. I felt faint with them, but I paid little attention. There was a large presence in the cave, lager than Mother, many times larger than me. He was making sounds in a booming roar quite unlike our squeaking, and Mother was answering him back in an equally booming voice. I understood nothing of what he said, but somehow, I felt an instant connection with him. I knew that he was my parent, just as much as Mother.

I also knew that it would be time to feed again soon, and I had no wish to be left behind again. My siblings didn't seem to be awake yet, so I could creep toward Mother while they slept. That way, I'd be closer than anyone when it was time to feed, and I would get there first and get the best milk. Encouraged, I started to move forward, much steadier on my legs than I had been earlier.

I was about halfway to Mother when it happened. I was scooped up into the air by two enormous paws. Trapped, I could do nothing but squeal shrilly and try to wriggle free, but the paws held me tightly.

My father, for he was the one who had picked me up, thundered out something in his enormous voice, and Mother laughed- a sound I knew instinctively- and replied in an equally loud tone. The sounds crashed upon my eardrums, and I squealed louder and redoubled my efforts to wriggle away.

Just when I thought the torment would never end, Mother said something, and Father put me back down… right next to my siblings, who by this time were wide awake. I could only pant on the stone floor with exertion as my siblings scurried off to Mother to feed. By the time I got to Mother, all the most nourishing milk was gone again, and once more I got nothing but the watery leftovers. I suckled until every drop was gone, long after my siblings had scurried away, but nothing would satisfy the pangs in my belly. Well, I thought sourly, that wasn't _my_ fault. I would have gotten to Mother first had it not been for my father. Stupid, wicked Father! I hated him.

The next few days passed in much the same way; feeding, sleeping, slowly becoming steadier on our feet. There were six pups in all, three girls and three boys, including me. The others always got to Mother first when it was time to feed, leaving me with the weakest milk. The hunger in my belly was rarely satisfied, and I often felt as if there was a gaping hole in my stomach which let all the food spill out, no matter what I drank. My siblings were all bigger than me, and healthier looking (not that a days-old rat pup is very healthy looking in any case, with its shriveled pink body and nonexistent slits for eyes).

I slowly began to understand what my parents said. Many of the words had to do with concepts I had no experience with, but the few words that I could relate to, I learned.

Our nest was in a relatively small cave, the floor hidden beneath a multitude of objects. Rats are scavengers, who will keep anything we can take. No two nests are alike, and the one I was born in was no exception. The floor was littered with the bones of just about every animal my father had ever caught, along with assorted precious stones (crystals and the like), numerous pieces of metal, and unrecognizable rotting things. Everything was covered in a layer of filth.

There was only one exit to the cave, a dark, gaping hole that led to a long tunnel. No luminous fungi grew in the tunnel. Not that light worried me anymore. By squealing in a high-pitched tone, higher than a human could hear, and listening to the sound bouncing back to me, I could tell where in the cave I was, and where my siblings were. Or at least I could tell the general direction. My echolocation was weak and unreliable, but I was a fast learner. Still am, even now.

One night, when I was about a week old, after yet another unsatisfying meal, I lay down with my siblings to rest. The hunger pangs in my chest were so great that I could barely sleep, and instead listened to my mother and father talking. At the time, I was still learning Gnawer, but I was able to understand most of what my parents said.

"I'm worried about the small one," said my mother. "He doesn't seem to get as much milk as the others."

"Yes," agreed my father. "Perhaps it would be better to-"

"No! At least give him a chance. He may yet pull through," pleaded Mother.

"Very well then," sighed Father. "We'll give him a chance. But he'll end up starving to death, poor thing."

I may not have understood all that I heard, but I gathered enough. I was the little one, who couldn't get enough milk. My parents were ashamed of me. They wanted to get rid of me, instead of watching the hunger pangs get bigger and eventually consume me. I sat up, thinking and worrying, for half the night, before sleep took me.

I was woken hours later by the usual sound of movement as my siblings rushed toward Mother for their morning feeding. I scurried along with them, but as usual I was too late. My siblings had gotten to the milk before me, and were busy suckling away.

For the first time in my short life, I became furious. These other pups had no right to steal my milk. I deserved milk as much as they did. I needed to eat. In that moment, I hated my parents and I hated my siblings. I hated everyone. The fury in me grew greater and greater still, until it consumed me completely.

With no control over what I was doing, barely even aware of my actions, I rushed at my siblings, knocking two of them aside. A third, one of my brothers, jumped on me, but I pushed him away, as if he were weightless. The remaining two attacked me from both sides, and I retreated, squealing angrily. One leaped toward me, and I dodged to one side at the last moment, where I was attacked by two more pups. Instinctively knowing what to do, I twisted my hips, first in one direction, then in another, so that their pinkish bodies were sent flying through the air. One of my sisters ran forward, yapping excitedly, but all I had to do was fake a lunge, and she retreated. It all happened in the space of a few seconds, but just like that, the milk was mine.

I grinned savagely, as best as a baby gnawer can. Let them go hungry tonight! Let them feel the pangs of hunger! I ran to Mother and began to suckle, and did not stop, not even after the hunger in my belly disappeared, not until every drop of milk was gone. After that, I dragged myself away to a corner.

After a while of lying in the corner and doing nothing, I learned my first lesson about food; that having too much is often as bad as having too little. I felt heavy and sluggish. But my hunger was gone.

For a long time I lay and wondered, what had happened? It felt like something had possessed me during the fight with my siblings. I'd had no control over my actions. What had caused me to do that? I hadn't meant my siblings any harm. All I'd wanted was a full stomach.

For a long time after that, my siblings avoided me. They didn't even let me sleep near them that night. I had to curl up in a corner and make myself as comfortable as possible. But from then on, they let me have all the milk I wanted. They made room for me whenever necessary, and shrunk away, giving me a wide berth until I was done feeding.

All the same, I still tried to be generous and not take too much milk. I was sorry for what I had done to my brothers and sisters, and didn't want anything like it to ever happen again.

Ha! If only I knew.

* * *

Who would have ever guessed that the legendary Ripred was runt of his litter? Okay, this chapter kinda sucked. Don't let it put you off. It gets better further in, I promise!


	2. Killers

It took a while to get this chapter to do what I wanted, but I think I finally got it to work. It's longer than the first, and, in my opinion, better. The ending is a sort of cliffhanger, or it would be, but since we've all read the Underland Chronicles we all know the answer anyways. Read and review!

Also, it turns out that this isn't the only biography of Ripred, after all. So this isn't the one and only. Sorry.

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I grew. Now that I had access to Mother's milk, I grew relatively quickly. I caught up to my brothers and sisters in growth, and even began to surpass them. My fur was beginning to grow in, too. It was thin and an unremarkable shade, but Father said not to worry. If there would be any colors or patterns to it, they would develop later.

I was steady on my feet now. The time that I did not spend feeding or sleeping was spent running around the nest, playing games with my brothers and sisters. After the tussle over the milk, they had been reluctant to accept me for a while, but they had soon gotten over their fear of me.

We were now fluent in both Gnawer and English. And yet, we still were nameless. We had not yet been alive for long enough for our parents to properly name us based on our attributes.

I had never left the nest. I was approaching a month old, and the cave was still the only world I knew. That dark, gaping hole that led to the outside was the limit of my universe. And yet, I knew that it was not the true limit. Father, or, less often, Mother, would leave the cave for periods of time, often coming back with the carcasses of strange creatures, which they would eat. And their conversations…

When Mother and Father were sure that we pups were asleep, they would talk of strange places, with strange beings. All I gathered were a few obscure, unspecific names, but these names dominated my dreams. Spinners, cutters, crawlers, fliers, nibblers… and once, in a hushed tone, when Mother and Father were sure every one of us was asleep, killers.

I spent long hours thinking about the world outside our nest. It must be large and fantastic, full of wonders and beauty… but how sad that only Mother and Father got to see it. How unfair! Why didn't we pups get to see the wonders of the outside world, too? Would we stay forever in the cave, until we got as old as Mother and Father, until we died?

No! I would leave the cave. Not forever, only for a while. I would see the world outside. The nibblers, the spinners, the… killers? As a pup of only a few weeks old, I only had the most abstract idea of death. To me, death was largely synonymous with eating. I had no desire to be eaten.

Suddenly, the outside world seemed like a horrible place, full of nightmarish monsters. What had I been thinking? I should just-

_THUMP._ I felt the impact as one of my brothers pounced on me. For a moment I was crushed, the wind knocked out of me, and then I scrambled to my paws and chased after my brother.

While I had been daydreaming in the corner, my brothers and sisters had been wildly running around the nest, playing a game like tag but with one exception; instead of gently tapping someone to tag them, you had to jump on top of them and pin them to the ground. Mother and Father encouraged us to play, saying that it would help us hunt when it was time for us to live on our own.

The brother who had "tagged" me danced out of my reach, laughing gaily. I hissed and shot forward, propelling myself with my back legs, but my brother dodged out of the way just in time. I skidded across the floor of the nest, scraping my belly raw. Eyes blazing, I got to my feet and turned in circles, squeaking at high frequencies to echolocate the rest of my siblings.

The brother that I'd been "tagged" by had shrunk into a crevasse in the rock wall. My other brother was standing against the wall opposite me. Two of my sisters were huddled together nearby, and a third was in the middle of the room, alone and unprotected. I set my sights on the latter, and leapt through the air, preparing to fall directly on her.

The sister stood still as I flew toward her, then, at the last minute, rolled to one side. She had only moved a few inches, but it was enough. I landed hard on the rock floor, and was momentarily paralyzed. My sister was standing only feet away, smirking slightly. I pulled myself to my feet and started to dive toward her… then remembered my caution. Leaping too hastily had caused me two falls in the last couple of minutes. I paused a moment, and jumped again… this time, slowly and with more care.

Once again, my sister dodged to one side, and I landed on rock, but this time, I was only slightly shaken by the impact. My other siblings had begun to squeal at me from the safety of the walls, but I ignored them. I was fixated on catching my sister, outwitting her, wiping the smirk off her face.

I stood still and silent as the seconds turned into minutes. Nobody dared say a word. Then, suddenly, I launched myself once more at my sister.

She moved, but not fast enough. Still, it was enough so that instead of falling on top of her and "tagging" her, as I had wanted, I plowed headfirst into her. We could not stop, and we both skidded across the cavern and crashed into one of my brothers.

For a moment, the three of us sat there, winded, then burst into merry peals of laughter. Not wanting to be left out, my other brother ran across the nest and dove into the pile, closely followed by my other two sisters. And, for that moment, we were carefree, a warm, happy bundle of squirming, giggling gnawer pups.

That evening, after we had drunk our shares of milk from Mother, as we curled up together to sleep, I got to thinking about my plan to leave the nest. It was a good plan, but it needed some revision. For one thing, who said that I had to go alone? I could bring my siblings with me. It would be a wonderful adventure to share, where we could laugh and play and never be truly scared, because we had each other…

But no. Mother probably wouldn't notice me leaving, but she was sure to notice if her entire litter of pups left. I should either go alone, or bring just one of my siblings. And I thought that I knew which one I should bring.

My sister, the one who had evaded capture during our game of "tag," was sleeping next to me. I gently pawed at her. No response. I pawed harder, and her eyes shot open. "Wha-?"

I clamped a paw over her mouth. "Silence! Follow me, but be quiet." My sister looked confused, but she obediently followed me away from the rest of the group.

Hidden in a crevice between two rocks, I detailed my plan to her. By the time I finished, her eyes were wide with shock.

"You want to leave the-?"

"Hush, not so loud. We won't go far. If we leave now, we can explore for a while and be back before anyone wakes up."

My sister turned her ears toward the hulking lump that was our mother, sleeping right in front of the cave entrance. She turned to smell the even greater lump that was Father, sleeping not far from Mother. And she turned to see, in the dim light, the tiny grayish shapes that were our brothers and sisters.

"They'll catch us for sure," my sister said.

"No!" I protested. "We have to at least try. You haven't heard the wonderful things Mother and Father talk about when we're asleep, about all sorts bizarre and fantastic creatures, spinners and hissers and crawlers." I refrained from mentioning the killers, not wanting to scare my sister out of the venture. I probably hadn't even heard it right. It could have been pillars or something.

Finally, my sister cracked. "Very well, we'll go. But if anything even slightly bad happens…"

"Fine."

"If we're caught, I'll blame it all on you."

"Fine."

"I'll say that you captured me while I was asleep, and-"

"Fine! Now let's go," I snapped.

Silent as shadows, we crept across the cavern, edged around the sleeping bodies of Mother and Father (I barely avoided stepping on Mother's tail), and walked into the dark tunnel.

For a split second, staring at the tunnel, I felt an urge to go back, to lie back down and fall asleep, to forget this whole silly venture. But I'd hate myself forever if I did. Besides, my sister would tease me about it forever. So I boldly proceeded into the tunnel, my sister in tow.

It was only a short distance down the tunnel before the light given by the luminous fungi that grew in our cave dimmed to nothing. I was now completely dependent on my other senses. This was not as big a deal for me as it would have been for a human. Using echolocation, I could tell the general shape of the tunnel, and I could smell my sister nearby. We walked in silence for several minutes.

A long way from our cave (or what seemed like a long way), the tunnel suddenly ended. We had come into a larger tunnel, which stretched away to the left and to the right seemingly endlessly, much farther than my untested echolocation could reach. At this point, my sister and I paused, silently taking in the wonders of the outside world.

My sister was the one to break the silence. "Which path should we take?" she asked.

I sniffed around for a bit. The path to the right led downwards, and it smelled of gnawers. _Other families of rats must live down there, _I thought. The path to the left, however, sloped gently upward, and all I could smell was the rock and soil.

I was tempted to turn right and meet the other gnawers, as I had never met anyone outside my family, but somehow, that felt too… normal. I wanted to take the road less travelled. I wanted to go where no rat had gone before.

My sister and I turned left, and began to walk in silence, me in front, and my sister slightly behind me and to my right. The path went straight for a short while, then began to curve and corkscrew around. Rats have a better sense of direction than humans, but it was not long before we were totally perplexed as to which direction we were facing in. I was not afraid of getting lost, as I was confident our scent could guide us back, but I was beginning to get bored. What was the use of sneaking out of the nest, if all that happened was that we walked through yards and yards of tunnels of tunnels? I was beginning to consider backtracking, when we came into a large cave.

The cave was a roundish one, with more tunnels extending out in every direction, like spokes on a wheel (although as I hadn't yet seen a wheel at the time, I couldn't make that comparison). My sister and I walked to the middle of it, and then we sat up on our haunches and thought.

"Which tunnel should we go through?" I asked.

"Perhaps we've seen enough. We should go back," said my sister.

I was taken aback by the suggestion. "Go back? But we haven't seen any of the amazing creatures that I heard about yet."

"Mother and Father might have woken up by now. They'll be scared for us."

"Very well," I sighed. "Just a little farther, and we'll start going back. How about we try that tunnel, over there?" I waved my paw in the direction of a large tunnel opposite the one we'd come out of.

"I suppose that it's as good as any," my sister replied, and we set off.

This tunnel sloped gently downwards, and went straight ahead. It was much wider than the last one. Nevertheless, as I walked along, I paid little attention to my surroundings. I was starting to worry about getting back. Mother might have woken up by now, and noticed that we were gone. And what if we couldn't find our way back? Would we roam these bleak and barren tunnels forever, until we starved to death? Would Mother and Father and our siblings always wonder where we had gone, but never find out? Would-

My sister pushed me backward, and I landed on my back on the hard ground of the tunnel. At first I wanted to snap at her, until I noticed that the tunnel dropped off sharply here. I had been paying so little attention to my surroundings that I hadn't noticed the tunnel ending. Cautiously, I crept to the edge and squeaked.

My echolocation registered a vast cavern, so vast that I could not hear the other end of it. I could, however, hear the bottom, hundreds of feet below. I was immediately glad that I had brought my sister along. If she hadn't stopped me then, I would have plummeted to my death.

On the other side of the cavern, I suddenly noticed a flicker of light. It was very far away, but I sensed that it was many times brighter than the luminous lichen in our home nest. It was not steady like the lichen, either, but seemed to flicker slightly, growing dimmer, then brighter, then dimmer again. My sister saw it, too, and we both sat motionless as we stared at the light.

A minute passed, and then another. The light seemed to grow larger and brighter, until I realized that it was coming closer to us. As it got brighter still, I finally could see (and smell) the creature that the light belonged to.

There were three of them, actually. No, six. Three pairs of creatures, to be exact. In each pair, there was one flying creature. The flying creatures looked somewhat like gnawers, except that they only had hind legs. In place of the front legs were two leathery wings, the span of these wings being three times Father's length. The fliers flapped their wings several times each second in the struggle to stay aloft. One of the flying creatures was black, another was a sort of bronze with white speckles, and a third was silvery, with bluish tints.

Riding upon the backs of the three fliers were three other creatures, even stranger still. They sat upright, two legs hanging down from the side of the flying creatures. The other two legs, which were so skinny that they looked unfit to walk upon, hung limply at their sides, except for that of the rider of the silvery flying creature. One of her upper legs was held outward at an angle, and clasped in its paw was a stone pole. At the top of the stone pole was the flickering orangey light that I had seen.

The faces of these creatures were rounded, instead of pointed like a gnawer's, or even those of the fliers. Stranger yet, except for having some fur at the top of their ball-shaped heads, the creatures were almost totally hairless, as bald as pups. Or so I thought. It was impossible to tell, because the creatures were sporting things around them… wrappings of a sort. They were strange wrappings indeed, thick and furry like extra layers of skin, and they covered up both the upper legs and the lower legs of the creatures, as well as their waist and midriff.

My sister and I froze, huddled together in fear, as the bizarre party came closer, the winged creatures flying and the bizarre creatures riding upon them. We were sure that they were coming for us, coming to drag us to their dens and kill us. Just as we were about to run for it, however, the group swept off to one side and soon vanished from view. The cavern grew quickly dark again with their departure. But even after they were gone, my sister and I stood still, transfixed.

"_PUPS!"_ bellowed a voice from behind us, and we jumped, nearly falling into the cavern below. We had been so mesmerized by the strange, majestic beasts that we hadn't noticed our father coming up behind us.

"Come with me," growled Father. He turned to leave, and we followed after him, trotting in his wake, tripping over his tail, which swished back and forth in an agitated fashion.

Through the tunnel, into the circular cave, back through the twisting passage, we followed Father. I was nearly shivering with fear. I had never seen Father this angry before. Why had I ever, ever decided to go exploring? How could I have been so incredibly, unforgivably stupid? Down the sloping passage, back through the tunnel, into the warmth and safety of our cave…

"They're fine. I found them," said Father to Mother as we walked through the opening into our nest. Mother had been pacing back and forth, but she stopped the moment we entered. The other pups were wide awake as well, and they too looked terrified. I suddenly felt horrible for what I'd done to my parents and siblings. I had caused them all so much worry, and it had been all my fault, all my fault.

"Now," growled Father when we were safely back in the nest, "Whose idea was it to leave and go exploring like this?"

I stumbled forward before my sister could do anything. "Mine, Father," I managed.

"Well, then," hissed Father, "You were very nearly responsible for your own death and that of your sister. If a spinner had caught you, you would not be listening to me right now! Yes, you can consider yourself lucky that you're here, listening to me berate you. You would not have liked the alternative, I can guarantee you that! So you can just…" Father paused, and the fearful, anxious silence that followed stretched into minutes.

Finally, Father broke the silence. "No. I can't blame you. You exhibited both curiosity and boldness by sneaking away like that, and those are two of the best qualities that a gnawer can have. It was a foolish decision, but it showed your spirit. You are both safe and sound right here, and I trust that neither of you will go wandering again anytime soon. Therefore, there is no reason to be mad."

I could barely believe my luck. All this time, I had been sure that I was in for some unspeakable punishment, and instead Father had complimented me! I was about to skip off to sleep with the rest of my siblings, when the strange party that we had seen from the cave mouth suddenly floated to the top of my thoughts. I decided that Father and Mother were in a good enough mood that I could risk asking about it. "Father, what were those creatures that we saw?"

Father sighed, and was silent for several more minutes. "What a story it is, young fellow," he finally said. "I hoped to postpone telling it to you, but I see that I cannot avoid it any longer. The rest of you had better listen in, as well," he said, indicating my siblings.

"The winged creatures that you saw were fliers. The ones riding upon them were killers."

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So, what do you think? I liked it, but my only concern was that Ripred was a bit OoC. Remember, he's only a few weeks old, so there's none of his trademark sarcasm yet. Hang in there!


	3. Growing Up and Growing Out

This chapter's pretty short. It's more of a supplemental than anything. You learn about the rats' take on the humans (my view of it, anyways), and some other random stuff about when Ripred was young. I hope the names I made up for his siblings sound okay. Making rat names that actually sound like Suzanne Collins did them is pretty hard, although using a thesaurus helps a lot.

* * *

_Killers?_ My responses to Father's revelation were mixed. First came realization. Finally, I knew what Mother and Father had been talking about! Then I felt a prickle of fear crawl up my spine. I had come that close to a killer; that close to being killed. They hadn't looked particularly lethal, but if they had spotted me and my sister, two defenseless pups, they could have obliterated us in an instant.

Father paused a moment, to let the sinister nature of his statement sink in, then continued on. "The first thing that you must know is that the killers are not native to the Underland. While all of the other species in the Underland, gnawers, crawlers, spinners, even treacherous fliers and nibblers, have lived here for many generations, the killers came to the Underland less than four hundred years ago. They originate in the Overland, an enormous world of light far above.

"In the Overland, killers are allowed to run rampant. Instead of living with the world, they live against it when it suits their wishes. There is nobody to stop them. There are gnawers in the Overland, but they are many times smaller than us, smaller than you were as newborns, even. The killers have therefore multiplied, and spread across their world in untold billions. It is said that the Overland was once a place of great beauty, but the countless masses of killers have decimated it, leaving their world a shell of what it once was.

"Not content with destroying their own world, several hundred years ago, a group of killers stumbled upon the Underland. The group was led by a ruthless and somewhat insane tyrant, Bartholomew of Sandwich. When Bartholomew entered the Underland, the first creatures that he met were the diggers. The diggers are gone now, so nobody remembers what they were like, but it is said that they were wise, kind, strong, and powerful, with claws that could burrow through hardest stone.

"The diggers lived in the north of the Underland. When Sandwich first saw the cave in which they lived, he wanted it for himself, and even though he had no right to it, Sandwich and his men fought a war against the diggers for the cave.

"The war was long and bloody, with many killed on both sides. However, the fight eventually began to turn the way of the diggers. In an act of cold-blooded genocide that earned the killers their name, Sandwich tainted the river so that any digger who drank from it would die at once. The entire population was killed, and Sandwich and his men took the cave for themselves. It is now the city of Regalia, where the majority of the killers live.

"Over the last few centuries, the killers, or 'humans' as they call themselves, have committed many more atrocities against the gnawers and other Underland creatures, although none as great as the evil inflicted upon the diggers. Sandwich is long dead, but he was merely one of many. The humans are monsters, every one of them, and must be eradicated from the Underland." And on that grim note, Father's story came to a close.

One of my sisters, curled up against Mother, asked, "But what happened to the diggers? Did any survive?"

"Perhaps a few managed to escape the poisoned river. Who knows? Nobody has seen a digger for over three and a half centuries," said Father. "Now, get to sleep, all of you. It's been a long night."

I curled up with my siblings, but I barely fell asleep at all that night. My mind was teeming with new information and questions, and it was many hours before I was finally enveloped by slumber.

…

Throughout the next few days and weeks, I pondered over the story of the killers and diggers many times. However, there was so much to see and do in those days that it was not long before the story and the majestic vision of the humans mounted atop their fliers were only vague memories.

My siblings and I grew and developed. We reached the month-old milestone, and were approaching two months. Our coats had completely grown in, and we were starting to look like fully grown gnawers (according to Mother).

We still drank Mother's milk occasionally, but we were no longer dependent on it. Father had to hunt twice as much to bring home food not only for Mother, but also the six of us. Crawlers, twisters, flutterers, different kinds of fish… all were infinitely more satisfying than milk. We were too young to hunt for ourselves, of course, apart from searching for mushrooms, which were more plentiful but less nourishing than meat.

Most importantly, we had our names. My sister (the one who'd snuck out with me) was named Flayclaw. My other sisters were named Bristlecoat and Rustbolt, and my brothers were Rockrind and Darkmuzzle. I, of course, was Ripred. Nobody ever totally explained how I got my name, although I believe it had something to do with the fact that I tore at my food whenever I ate. Still, where "red" comes from, I don't know. My fur isn't even remotely reddish.

My siblings and I would, with strict instructions from both parents to stay together and not wander far, often go and play games with the other gnawer pups that lived in the lower caves. This was more fun for my siblings than for me. They all took naturally to playing with other pups, whereas I always seemed to be the one left out. There was something different about me, something that made the others wary of me. So, while my brothers and sisters scurried through the wide caverns and tunnels playing "tag" and roughhousing, I would stand alone and daydream. Many of my daydreams centered on killers and fliers. I imagined singlehandedly fighting an army of the monsters, killing off hundreds of them, and removing their blight from the Underland. I was the hero of the rats, in my daydreams.

In reality, I was anything but a hero. On the rare occasion that I would try to join in with the other pups, they would shun and ignore me. Even, to a certain extent, my siblings. I expected Flayclaw to stick up for me (since the night we'd snuck out together, I'd felt that we had a special connection), but she was just as cold everyone else.

One young rat was particularly brutal towards me. His name was Cleaver, and he was about a month older than me and my siblings. He would smack me with his tail when nobody was looking, or even scratch me, leaving glaring red marks on my delicate young coat. It was mainly because of Cleaver's bullying that I began to detach myself from the group. While they laughed and played together happily, I found myself ignoring Mother's warnings and wandering through the stone tunnels alone, far from the other pups. Once or twice I even went back to the ledge where I'd first spotted the killers, but I never saw or smelled so much as a trace of a human or a flier.

Another of my favorite spots was at the bank of a river that flowed through the caverns. I would sit at the edge, perched atop a stone, and indulge myself in ludicrous daydreams about being a hero. Occasionally I would snap up a few shrimp from the river bottom. Shrimp tasted delicious, but were hard to get because of the rushing current of the river, which prevented me from going in too deep.

The only times when I was truly happy and content in those days were when my siblings and I were back in the cave, curled up in a bundle to sleep. Mother would tell us stories, amazing tales of the strange creatures that inhabited the Underland, spinners, nibblers, hissers. None of my brothers or sisters seemed to care for the stories all that much, but I listened in fascination, eagerly drinking in every word.

We began to learn how to read. Gnawers can't hold a pen, and can only write with difficulty, scratching letters into stone, but reading was essential for learning the Tree of Transmission. I took to reading and transmitting messages quite well, better than any of my siblings or the other rats my age. None of them besides me cared for transmitting much, which was a shame, as a message is only worth sending if there is someone to receive it.

All in all, for better or for worse, life went on. It was sad at times, lonely most of the time, but I continued to grow and change, along with everyone else.

Then one day Mother took us on a trip to the Garden of the Hesperides, and my life changed forever.

* * *

Anyone remember Cleaver? He was mentioned briefly in the Code of Claw. Ripred hid under his body while escaping from the man-eating mites. I decided to create a sort of Bartimaeus/Faquarl style rivalry (read the Bartimaeus trilogy, people!) between him and Ripred, so you'll be seeing more of him in coming chapters. Also... what else? Oh, yes. Flutterers are my name for Underland moths.


	4. The Garden of Eden

This is a pretty long chapter. It gets slightly awkward at times, but overall I think it had the desired effect. Review, or I'll make horrible things happen to Ripred. Okay, who am I kidding? Horrible things happen to Ripred anyways.

* * *

Whoever wrote that old human legend about an apple being the cause of all evil must have been an Underlander. The Garden of the Hesperides, the apple orchard that was a "gift" to the gnawers by the humans, has caused nothing but trouble for the entire Underland. It was where dozens of innocent gnawers and pups (and humans and bats) were drowned, and where I first…

My first visit as a pup to the Garden of the Hesperides happened years before the flood. I still remember that day perfectly, even now, so many years later. We set off for the garden at an early hour, and our mother led the six of us up and down and backwards through the winding tunnels, taking us farther from our nest than we'd ever gone before. "Are we at the garden yet, Mother?" we asked again and again, to which Mother would patiently respond every time, "Not much farther now, pups."

Finally, after what seemed like centuries, we were able to smell the apples. They were still far away, but their cloying scent reached our noses, sweeter than anything I have smelled in my life, before or since. The sheer deliciousness of it was indescribable, and we marched steadily forward, following it as if hypnotized.

Ten minutes later, the tunnel began to widen. We could see light at the end of it, the first light we had seen since leaving the nest earlier that morning. The scent of the apples hung heavy in the air.

Unable to stand the tension any longer, the six of us darted ahead, leaving Mother behind to catch up. We trotted out of the tunnel and into the garden, and stopped short, taking in the wonder of it all.

The light in the garden was far brighter than any light we had seen. With it, we could see dozens of apple trees, standing with grace and power, beautiful but unearthly. The apples growing from them were like spun gold, and the leaves were a darker green than emeralds. The pinkish-white apple blossoms seemed to glitter in the light, and the twisted, mottled bark of the trunks was no less beautiful, being such a shade of brown that it could have been pure mud.

The smell of the apple blossoms was overbearing, and my brothers and sisters and I rushed to the nearest tree. We circled around it, standing on our hind legs with our front paws reaching upward, but no matter how high we jumped, the apples remained teasingly just beyond our reach. Rustbolt dug her claws into the slippery bark and tried to climb it, but all that happened was that she slid to the ground, landing on her stomach with her legs splayed out. After that, we could do nothing but yap excitedly at the apples above us until Mother finally found us there.

"Now, then," she admonished. "That's not the way to do it." And Mother leaped up into the air and caught hold of the branch. It trembled under her weight, and she began to shake it up and down. An apple fell to the ground with a dull thump, soon followed by another and another. Squealing with delight, my siblings and I ran to catch the apples, gobbling up every morsel we could grab. Oh-h-h-h! They were every bit as good as they smelled!

It was not long before every bit of each apple, including the cores, had vanished. When the fruit on the branch was depleted, my siblings ran off to play, and I ran off to explore.

The garden was full of the trees. I wandered for hours, staring in awe at the great trees, each more beautiful and delicious-smelling than the next. Occasionally I encountered other rats, strolling with their pups or sitting and eating the apples. The ringing sound of laughter could be heard everywhere, and the drowsy scent of the apple blossoms filled my lungs with each breath.

At one end of the garden, I could smell water and hear a river rushing by. The river was blocked from view, however, by the two enormous sluice gates. I tried to climb the great gates, but my claws were still young, and I was unsuccessful.

Placed along the garden's paths at irregular intervals were a number of very tall pillars of sparkling bluish-white crystal. The pillars were perfectly rounded, and much smoother than crystal could ever have gotten naturally. But who could have shaped the crystal? Gnawers certainly hadn't. Our claws could never have scraped with that much precision. But then who-?

"Ripred!" called a voice from nearby. I turned to see my brother Darkmuzzle, covered in leaves at the foot of a nearby tree. He and Bristlecoat had pushed the fallen leaves together to form a pile, and were busily jumping and bouncing in it. "Come play with us!"

My question forgotten, I turned and dove into the pile with my brother and sister. We played for hours, laughing and squealing, without a care in the world.

…

After several hours of nonstop play, all six of us were utterly exhausted. Mother led us through the garden, to the wall opposite the entrance. This wall was dotted with caves, and Mother picked one and led us inside. The inside of the cave was roomy and fresh, with a soft, moss-covered floor. The six of us and Mother lay down, spread out individually instead of cuddled together as usual, and slowly dozed off to sleep.

Before I closed my eyes, however, I remembered to ask Mother a question. "Mother, who put those pillars of crystal out on the paths? Rats didn't make them."

"Of course not, Ripred. They were made by the killers."

I was floored. "Killers? But I thought they were our enemies."

"They haven't been forever, Ripred," said Mother wearily. "There have been times in the past when the killers and gnawers have been allies for short periods. The Garden of the Hesperides was a gift from the killers to the gnawers during one of those times."

"But… but…" I sputtered. "If the killers are evil, why were we allies with them?"

"Only for short periods of time, little fellow. In the long term, we remain enemies. Now, hush up. Your siblings are napping, and you should be as well."

I curled up and tried to fall asleep. It was hard for me, because my mind was spinning, upset by the concept of killers actually being our friends. If they were truly evil, then why would gnawers ally themselves with them? And could they really be so horrible, if they had created something as beautiful as the Garden of Hesperides? These questions followed me into my dreams that day.

Later that afternoon when we woke up, we were hungry again, and eager to eat more of the delicious apples. "Well," said Mother, "We'll be going home pretty soon. Still, I suppose a few more hours of play couldn't hurt. Go ahead."

We were inclined to grumble at the idea of going home, but, determined to enjoy what time we had left, we shot out into the garden. My siblings were dashing about, playing "tag," but I stood by one of the trees and looked lustfully up at the apples, hanging down far above. There had to be a way that I could get to them. There had to be a way!

After a while, Mother noticed me standing there. "What's the matter, Ripred?" she asked. "Do you want to pick your own apples?" I nodded.

Mother scooped me up in her paws, and, standing only on her back legs, raised me high above her head. By raising my own paws, I was just level with the lowest branch of the tree. Only a foot or so away, there was an enormous, juicy-looking apple, glittering in the light like a gem. I leaned sideways and reached out my paws to it… only a little farther away… only a little farther…

At the very moment that I snagged the apple, Mother lost her balance, and we both fell. I landed on Mother's stomach, the prized apple clutched in my paws. Neither of us was hurt.

"Now, then, little fellow," said Mother. "Run along with your apple. I have to tend to your sisters." Obediently, I scampered off, the apple clutched in my paw.

I lay for a long time near the sluice gates with my apple on the ground beside me. I left the apple alone in its untarnished wholesomeness. It was truly too good and beautiful to eat, at least for now. Maybe later…

I was roused from my thoughts to see a dark form looming over me. Looking up, I shuddered. Cleaver. The same Cleaver that pushed me around and clawed at me when nobody was looking. I looked up at his muscular chest, his sneering face… Where had he come from? I hadn't seen him anywhere when I'd been exploring earlier. Had he just gotten here?

"What have you there, Ripred?" asked Cleaver, waving a claw at my apple, which was still beside me.

Too late, I moved to cover up the apple. "Nothing."

Cleaver chuckled. "Oh, it's something, all right. And it's mine now."

"What?" I squealed in protest. "No!"

Cleaver paid no attention, merely smiled as two other young rats came out of the trees. I recognized them as two of Cleaver's friends, although I couldn't recall their names. They walked up to me, looming above me, and I could do nothing but squeal helplessly as they pried the apple from my claws. I watched in disbelief as they marched off with my apple, grinning in a satisfied way.

Once Cleaver's gang was out of sight, I got to my feet, and began to trot through the Garden, calling for Mother. She would make it right, I was sure. She would make Cleaver give me back my apple.

I found Mother by a large tree, kneeling over my brother Rockrind. Rockrind was lying on his back, one of his back legs sticking out at an awkward angle. I could see my other four siblings next to him, peering with concerned eyes. Rockrind had, I later found out, tried to climb one of the apple trees, and had actually gotten quite high up before falling and landing heavily on his leg.

Just then, I couldn't have cared less. My only concern was my apple, my beautiful golden apple which I was sure I would never see again.

"Mother," I whined. "Please, help me get-"

"Not now, Ripred," snapped Mother.

"But Mother, Cleaver stole my-"

"Not _now,_ I said. Can't you see that I'm tending to your brother?"

Realizing that no help would be gotten from Mother, I slunk off, despair enveloping me like a shroud. I was weak, weak and dumb, to have been defeated so easily. I was nothing. I deserved to lose my golden apple. I wasn't worthy of it.

I kicked at a pebble, and it skidded across the path. No! I wasn't weak. Cleaver was. He couldn't even face me, a pup younger than him, without his two friends to back him up. He was too lazy to pick his own apples, so he had to go around stealing other rats'. He thought that I was too intimidated to stand up for what was right. Well, I would stand up. I would teach Cleaver a lesson. Even if I couldn't win, I would make Cleaver and his friends think twice before they stole another apple.

Those were my desperate, half-formed thoughts before I saw Cleaver in the distance. He and his two friends were sitting in a thicket slightly off of the path, greedily tearing at the remains of my golden apple. They had shared it between themselves, and had eaten it down to its golden-white core, which they were finishing off even as I watched.

A wave powerful of rage seized me. What had I done to deserve this?! It wasn't fair! Wasn't fair! The rage enveloped me, begging for me to control it, directing me. It was the same as when I'd been a newborn pup, desperate for milk, except it was now a thousand times greater.

I stepped toward the group. One of them raised his head. Another swung her tail at me. I leapt to meet it. And that was the last thing I clearly remembered.

During the next minutes, my mind seemed to have been wiped blank. All sights, sounds, and smells became blurry and indistinct… except for those of the other rats. I could see them as if every single hair was outlined, razor sharp, and I knew, somehow knew, how to block their attacks and deliver a few of my own.

Other than that, I have little recollection of those few minutes. It was a blur of activity, the world around me blank, nothing but me and those three pups, eternally moving, blocking, slashing, whipping, until I was on top… claws raised above my head… the kill just seconds away…

A much larger tail slammed into me, propelling me through the air several feet, where I landed, splayed, on the dirt. I tried to stand, but an enormous paw was holding me down, expertly rendering me motionless. I could hear voices above me, adult voices raised in anger, and I could smell that familiar smell of my mother…

Mother! I jerked back to consciousness. What had happened? There had been a fight… I had pinned one of the rats down… Cleaver…. I had been about to kill him… but why? All I'd wanted to do was push him around, get revenge for the apple, not actually _kill_ him.

The grown-up paw that was holding me had loosened its grip slightly, and I was able to slowly raise my head. I could smell the metallic scent of blood, blood everywhere, on the ground, splattered on my coat… my blood? No. I couldn't feel so much as a bruise anywhere on my body. But then whose blood was it? My vision was still blurry, so I squeaked to echolocate.

Cleaver and the others were lying still on the ground, each bleeding from numerous wounds. Unconscious… or dead? No. Their bodies radiated heat. They were, all of them, alive.

Mother and the other grown rat, the one who'd pinned me down, were still arguing heatedly. I was beginning to understand what they were saying. Right now, Mother was growling, "… don't have time for this. One of my other pups was just injured-"

"And thanks to your son, my pup is injured as well, along with two of his friends! Can't you smell the blood, Sleeksnout? This is what your precious pup has inflicted upon my Cleaver-"

"And you will cause far worse to my Ripred if you continue to hold him in such a manner. Release him at once, before you paralyze him!"

"If I had not restrained him, he would have cut Cleaver's throat! Do you balk, Sleeksnout? I'm telling the truth! Your Ripred was fighting with advanced skill, far beyond anything a pup his age should have managed. Have you and your mate been teaching him to openly seek aggression with other pups? Are you-"

"_How dare you?_How dare you speak about me and my mate and pups in this way? Release Ripred at once, I say, before he is crushed beneath your great clumsy paw!"

I felt the paw lift from my neck, and I breathed deeply. I could still hear Cleaver's mother shouting in the background: "-Ripred was a second away from killing my precious Cleaver. I am not sure even now that he will not die, along with his friends. Your pup is dangerous and anger-driven, and ought to be-"

There was a slapping sound and a squeal of outrage. It sounded like Mother had struck Cleaver's mother with her tail. "Leave my and my pup alone," growled Mother's voice.

Next moment, I was being picked up by gentle, soothing paws, although I could still feel the remnants of tension within them. Mother's paws. I felt myself being lifted, and carried through the trees, to where my siblings were waiting.

Well, to make a long story short, between my fight and Rockrind's injury, Mother decided that it was time for us to go home. She gathered the six of us together (not a difficult task, as we were all gathered in the same place, and both Rockrind and I were too weak to move anyways), and we began the long journey home, Rockrind riding on Mother's back.

Naturally, the other pups, especially our sisters, were inclined to grumble about their trip being cut short, and they took much of their anger out on me. "You boys always ruin everything," hissed Flayclaw, sidling up to me.

"Yeah," agreed Bristlecoat. "You stupid boys."

I wearily swished my tail at them, and they fell back, giggling.

"Stop that!" came Mother's voice. Mother hadn't even bothered to turn her head.

"Mother," I asked after a spell. "Will Cleaver…?"

"No," Mother snapped, her eyes still set straight ahead. "They'll all be fine."

My greatest question, however, went unanswered. What had happened when I'd fought? Everything had gone all blurry and funny, and even though Cleaver and the others were all bigger than me, I'd easily defeated them all. Was this normal when you were angry or something? But no, Cleaver's mother had said that I had been fighting with advanced skill. So what was wrong with me? I made up my mind to ask Father about it when we got home.

However, when we got back to the nest, Father was too busy with Rockrind for me to ask him anything. He made a makeshift bed in the corner out of moss and soft earth, and lay Rockrind down on it, talking soothingly to him all the while. "There then, it's nothing to worry about, little guy. Just a sprain. Or perhaps a minor fracture. Either way, it's nothing serious. You'll have to stay in the nest for a few days, but you'll be as good as new in no time. In the meantime, rest up and relax, and you'll be on your feet again pretty soon. Now, why don't you have some of this fish…" In this manner, it was hours before Rockrind dozed off, and even longer before my other siblings curled up and fell asleep as well.

After we were all supposedly asleep, Mother began to outline in great detail our trip to the Garden. She told about Rockrind's injury, and about my fight. As she talked, I crept closer to hear. "She said that Ripred was fighting at an advanced level," said Mother, "but I don't see how that could be. We haven't even begun to teach him fighting. Not any of them. Unless he picked some techniques up from the other pups he plays with, I don't see how…"

"Yes, it is quite surprising," said Father thoughtfully. "Little Ripred is a fast learner, but to defeat three pups larger than him and leave them unconscious…" Father's voice trailed off. "But why don't we ask him personally? I see that our little fellow doesn't seem to be asleep."

Father and Mother both stared at me in the dim light, searching for an answer that I didn't have.

"I don't know, Father," I said honestly. "When I was fighting them, everything went kind of weird. I don't really remember any of it. But I felt powerful. I felt like I could have fought a hundred rats and won. It felt… strange," I concluded, knowing that my information would not help Father, only confuse him more.

To my surprise, Father looked thoughtful again. "I don't know. Still, what you're describing sounds rather like… but no. There hasn't been one for a long time. I've never met one. But that doesn't mean that you can't be.

"I'll have to ask around a bit, learn a little more before I can say for sure. For now, you mustn't tell anyone about what happens when you fight. Not a soul. Don't even tell your brothers and sisters. They might brag about it to their friends, and we must keep this secret at all costs, at least for now.

"Promise me, Ripred. Promise me you won't tell a single rat about what happened when you fought those pups today. You must give me your word, Ripred."

"I promise, Father," I murmured, wondering what all this could possibly be about.

"Now, off to sleep with you," said Father, and I slunk off to curl up with my other siblings. Along the way, I passed Rockrind, lying on his little bed of moss. He was tossing and turning in his sleep, softly whimpering with pain.

Oh, to have a problem as simple and straightforward as an injured leg! How I envied my brother.


	5. Life Goes On

Sorry it took so long to update. I had a bit of writer's block, and school's starting in a couple days. I'm not sure this chapter did everything I wanted it to. Constructive criticism welcome. _Anything,_ so long as I get reviewed.

* * *

Rockrind stayed in the nest for the next three days, while his leg repaired. He healed quickly, and less than a week after his accident he was running around again as good as new, just like Father had promised.

Solutions to my predicament, however, would not be so easily found. On the few occasions that I dared to ask Father if he'd figured anything out yet, he would tell me to hush up, lest my siblings hear. He was still asking questions, he said, and he wasn't sure how long it would take to piece everything together and come up with an answer.

In the meanwhile, I was left in the dark (a silly human figure of speech, which implies that being in the dark is the same as being ignorant, and although this may be true for humans, it is certainly not true for rats, as we have scent and echolocation to guide us when there is no light). My ignorance gnawed at me. Was I insane? Insane gnawers were put to death, this much I knew. Was I awaiting that fate? Or was I evil? Had I simply been born with an irrevocable desire to kill? Even an insane rat could be forgiven and mourned, as it wasn't their fault, but if I was purely and simply a monster…? The questions ate at me from the inside, threatening to truly turn me insane.

One evening, about a week and a half after our visit to the Garden of the Hesperides, as my siblings were tearing at the remains of a dead crawler, Father pulled me aside. He led me down the tunnel outside our nest, and then up the larger passage, until we reached a tiny cave with sandstone walls. Father led me inside the cave.

"Do you know what-?" I began, but Father cut me off.

"Hush, not so loud. You can never know what may be listening. I believe I may know, but first I must ask you a question. Has anything like this ever happened before?"

"Well, no," I began, but as I spoke, a memory rose to the top of my mind. Milk… hunger… fighting… anger and fear… "Yes," I said slowly. "When I was a pup… and I couldn't get any milk… I kind of fought the others. Knocked them out of the way. But when I was fighting them, something like that happened. Except… it was different. Not as strong or powerful, and everything was different, but it was… similar."

"Of course," murmured Father. "A precursor to it. Not the true thing, but merely a side show. Your brain and body weren't fully developed yet, so it wouldn't have been as strong."

"What, Father?" I urged. "A precursor to what? What am I?"

Father said nothing, merely stood there and studied me for a long time. Finally, after many minutes had gone by, he spoke, slowly and sadly. "Ripred, I think that you might be a rager."

I was bewildered. I had no idea what a rager was. An insane person? Someone evil? My old fears came rushing back. Was I doomed to spend life as a monster?

"A rager," said Father in response to my obvious confusion, "is someone born knowing instinctively how to fight. Plenty of rats claim to be ragers, but most of them are obviously lying. True ragers, yourself included if I am not mistaken, are as rare as trees."

I practically glowed with pride (another silly human expression based on light). I was different, special, elite. Instead of being a monster, I was gifted!

"It is said that when a rager fights he goes into a trance," continued Father. "He cannot stop fighting until the enemy is completely destroyed. I've asked around about it, and it seems that the more experienced ragers have control over their fighting, but the younger, less experienced ones such as yourself are powerless over themselves."

I was barely paying attention. I was lost in dreams of glory, of fame. All my childish daydreams of being the hero of the rats could come true now. I could fight better than anyone else. Instead of teasing and shunning me, the other rats would covet me now. They might even worship me. Ripredism, perhaps? That didn't sound too bad…

Oblivious to the fact that he had lost me, Father continued on. "Ripred, you must promise me one thing. Do not tell anyone that you are a rager. Do not even tell your siblings. Certainly you must not tell your playmates. I will explain to Mother as best I can. It is vital that you tell nobody. If word reached the ears of the king, he would take you away immediately, to train you to fight in his armies. You cannot let that happen until you are older, and ready to fight in the army of your own accord… if you so choose. In such matters, a rager generally has much more choice than an ordinary rat. Still, you are but a pup, and they would manipulate you, so that you would be a mindless slave that does their bidding, instead of the free agent that you are meant to be. Do you see?"

"Yes, I promise, Father," I answered automatically, but my heart wasn't in it. I was still absorbed by my daydreams of conquests, battles, emerging victorious and legendary, a name to be passed down by the gnawers for generations. I barely even noticed myself following Father through the tunnels, back to our nest. I lay down with my siblings, but I was miles and years away, a grown rat, a general, leading a great and powerful army into battle against the killers and fliers.

…

For the present, my dreams of being a great commander did not seem likely to come true. Life was easier for me in some ways, and harder in others. The secret of being a rager was not so hard to keep; I often had an urge to brag about it, but I resisted the urge without too much difficulty.

In fact, I avoided the other pups most of the time now. I'd never been social, but I was completely withdrawn now. I would sit for long hours on my favorite stone by the river. The shrimp were fewer in number now, so it was just me, alone with my thoughts.

I no longer dreamed of becoming a general. I _knew_I would become one. Perhaps I would become the new king. I was a rager, wasn't I? And it was said that King Bloodsheen was getting old. Some rats even thought he was unfit to be a king anymore. I'd heard some of the grown rats talking not long ago, talking about how there would need to be a replacement soon. I could be that replacement.

Of course, I wasn't nearly old enough yet. It would still be many months before I was fully grown. And in the meantime, there was plenty to learn.

Father had begun to teach us how to fight. I was included in the lessons, despite the fact that I was a rager. When I asked Father about it, he told me, "You still know next to nothing about fighting. There are certain basics that even a rager has to learn. Besides, if I train your siblings and not you, it'll look suspicious. Remember that you're not supposed to let anyone know about your talent until you're older."

So I learned about fighting. I still remember that first lesson pretty clearly, although I won't go into detail about it. It was pretty boring, actually. Father showed us some basic positions and moves with claws, teeth, and tail, and had us each imitate him. When it was my turn, I could feel the rager sensation, a dark presence deep within me. Instead of it controlling me, like it had during my fight with Cleaver, I controlled it, going through my moves more fluidly and nimbly than any of my siblings. Father smiled at me, but didn't dare draw attention to it by praising me. Afterward, Father discussed the different tactics involved in fighting fellow gnawers, as well as cutters, spinners, and killers.

"A killer," he said, "does not fight like a rat or any other creature. Were the killers forced to fight on foot and carrying nothing, they would have been eliminated long ago. Instead, they fight unnaturally. They ride upon the backs of fliers, diving in close to a gnawer, slicing at it, and then swooping away. It is a treacherous, cowardly way to fight, made more cowardly by the fact that the killers do not even use their claws or teeth to fight. Instead, they use sharpened pieces of metal that they carry with them to slice us open. Therefore, extreme caution must be taken when fighting a killer, especially one on a flier."

"Have you ever fought killers?" asked Darkmuzzle.

"Of course," answered Father. "I fought in the army before I had you pups."

Fighting was not the only thing we learned. Shortly after our fifth-month birthday, Father began to teach us how to hunt. He led the six of us down to the river, at a different place from the rock where I liked to sit. The river was wider here, and faster. It rushed by with force that resounded throughout the caverns, a dull, never-ending roar. We followed Father down the rocky beach, to the very edge of the water. I could feel the cold, wet spray on my face as the river rushed by.

"The fish swim by the side, where the current's not so great," yelled Father over the roaring river. "You have to reach in and snag one. Simple as that. Don't worry about falling in. I'll catch you if you do." To demonstrate, Father reached into the river. After a second or two, he lifted his paw out again. Snagged in his claws was a beautiful trout, long, fat, and delicious-smelling. Before any of us could move, Father had wolfed down the fish, bones and all.

"Now you," said father to Darkmuzzle, who walked over to the edge of the bank and leaned over, right above the rushing current. Slowly, he reached his claws out, until they were just touching the river… and he hurriedly drew them back. "Cold!" he yelped.

"For goodness sakes!" Father growled. "You can stand a bit of cold. You won't drown. Now, try it again."

Again, Darkmuzzle reached out over the river, and plunged his paw into the raging water. I could hear him wincing, but he gritted his teeth and held on, dipping his paw in further and further. Father was hovering feet away, ready to grab Darkmuzzle if he fell.

After several minutes, Darkmuzzle withdrew his paw from the river. He had caught nothing, except for a chill. My brother stumbled away from the riverbank on three legs, his fourth clutched close to his chest. He collapsed in a corner, a shivering wreck.

"I thought not," said Father. "If you had gotten it on your first try, I'd have been surprised. Now, why don't you have a try, Bristlecoat?"

Bristlecoat had no more success than Darkmuzzle. Nor did Flayclaw, although when she withdrew her paw, she did say, "I almost grabbed one. But it slipped away."

"Yes, that's the biggest challenge," said Father wearily. "Your turn, Ripred."

I could echolocate Darkmuzzle, shivering in the corner, Bristlecoat, huddled behind a large rock, and Flayclaw, who had limped away and curled in a ball on the riverbank. None of them looked particularly happy. But what could I do? Refuse, and face Father's wrath?

With many misgivings, I pushed myself to the edge of the river, and, inch by inch, leaned over. The river was rushing by just inches beneath me. Slowly, I extended my claw, hoping that I could keep my balance. I'd been growing quite a bit lately, and as a result I was pretty uncoordinated.

My claws pierced the surface of the water, followed by my entire paw. The water chilled me through my skin, and my leg went numb all the way to the shoulder. I wanted nothing more than to yelp and draw back, but I knew how angry Father would be at me if I gave up. I dug deeper, deeper, feeling for a fish. The cave was dark, so it was impossible to see, and echolocation doesn't work properly for rats below water, so I was relying upon scent and feel alone. It was no use. It was impossible…

There? What was that? It was hard to tell, since my paw was so numb, but I thought I could feel something. Something smooth and slippery. I reached out for it, carefully, not wanting it to shoot off. Slowly, my claws speared the fish- yes, it was a fish! When I was confident of my grasp, I slowly began to retract my claw, dragging the fish out of the river.

Then I squealed with terror. A monster was emerging from the river! It was the length of two gnawers, and was grossly misshapen. Slowly, ominously, it rose out of the water.

I lost my balance and tumbled forward, face first, into the river. I would have drowned, if I had not managed to grip the edge of the river with my back paws at the last moment. Holding on for dear life, I slowly wrenched myself from the battering currents, just in time.

When I had collapsed on the bank, fur drenched and hanging down (the fish had slipped away), I geared myself up to run from the monster. My siblings, even the ones still shivering from their futile dips in the river, were all doing the same.

"No!" growled Father. "Stay! It's a friend."

At Father's words we relaxed, and in doing so got a better glimpse (through echolocation) of the monster. It was large, and shelled, like a crawler, not furred, like a gnawer. The creature's body was segmented, and overall arrow-shaped, with one long whisker on each side of its mouth. The creature also had several legs, the first pair culminating in two enormous pincers. Ugh, the pincers! They were each almost as large as the creature's whole body, and could have easily chopped Father in half, let alone any of us, half grown pups that we were. The creature had a salty, strange smell to it.

It took all of my courage to stay still on the riverbank, as the monster crawled through the water toward us and Father. When it reached the edge of the water it stopped, and spoke. It spoke in the human language, but it had a strange, guttural accent. The great pincers snapped open and shut slightly as the creature spoke.

"Gnaw-er," it clicked, pronouncing _gnawer_ as two separate words. "How go the waters?"

"Very well, thank you," responded Father, calmly and politely. "How go them for you?"

"Well," hissed the creature. "Who are the young? Are they of your brood?"

"Indeed. Tpacchslatskillt, meet you my pups, Darkmuzzle, Rustbolt, Ripred, Flayclaw, Rockrind, and Bristlecoat. I have taken them hunting for fish today. Pups, greet you Tpacchslatskillt the snapper, an old ally of mine," said Father.

"Greetings," we all chorused in unison, speaking Human like Father and the creature… the snapper?

"A good brood," remarked Tpacchslatskillt approvingly. "How goes your mate, Sleeksnout?"

"Well indeed," answered Father.

Well, I'll make a long story short again. Father and Tpacchslatskillt (at least I think I spelled that correctly, lobster names are hard) exchanged some more polite small talk about old acquaintances, politics, food, etc. All of it was dreadfully boring to us pups. After several minutes, the snapper scuttled back into the depths of the river, and was soon shielded from scent beneath the rushing river.

With Tpacchslatskillt gone, Rockrind and Rustbolt took their turns at fishing. Neither of them was successful. Evidently deciding that the trip had been a failure (I hadn't told Father about the fish I'd snared, and I didn't intend to), Father led us back home.

"Who was that… thing, Father?" asked Bristlecoat, as we meandered through the twisting tunnels.

"That was Tpacchslatskillt, a snapper. A lobster, if you prefer the human name for them. The snappers are our allies against the killers," explained Father. "Tpacchslatskillt and I have fought together."

…

As you can imagine, it took us all quite some time to master the art of hunting. I won't describe the whole long, tedious process of it. Suffice to say that by the time that we were able to hunt sufficiently for ourselves, we were nearly eight months old, only a few months away from being fully grown.

Now that we could hunt, we were seeing less and less of Father. He'd stayed close to the cave when we were pups, but more recently he'd been gone for long periods of time. Mother told us that he was working for the rat's army, patrolling certain caverns, keeping killers and fliers away.

Even without Father, our tiny nest was becoming increasingly cramped. To think that I had once thought that the cave was all there was to the world! Nowadays we spent little time in the nest, apart from sleeping. The days were spent running through the caves, hunting, playing. It would have been an ideal life, if not for one thing.

The idea of being a rager continually nagged at the back of my mind. I didn't care if it was a gift anymore. I just didn't like the thought of having no control over my actions. What if I went into the rager state and killed somebody? Somebody I loved? I hadn't gotten in a single fight with anyone since the Garden incident. I was too afraid of what might happen.

Cleaver had been avoiding me since our fight. Or maybe I was avoiding him. I'm really not sure, even now. I didn't feel sorry for him. He'd gotten what he'd deserved. But I cringed every time I remembered the fight. Had I really done that?

Aside from my worries, it was a peaceful life, probably the most peaceful period I've ever had. Until the day the announcement arrived… the day my world was turned upside down, sideways, and inside out a couple of times for good measure. The day that changed me for good.

* * *

Ripred's dad was fun to write. I just hope I didn't make him too goody two-shoes for a rat.


	6. Exodus

So, this is a pretty sad chapter. At least, I wanted it to be sad. I'm not good at writing emotions like that. Anyways, School's started, so expect delays.

* * *

The message came by night, actually. Or the closest we get to night in the Underland. In any case, it came during the time when my siblings and I were asleep, crowded into the cave with Mother (Father was gone at the time).

I was the only one awake, wedged between the wall and two of my sisters, sourly wondering why my parents had chosen this tiny cave to be their nest. It was _way_ too small. Of course there was the luminous lichen in the walls; that was a relative rarity in this part of the Underland, and therefore a luxury (just because rats don't _need_ light doesn't mean we don't _like_ it). It had been fine when we were pups, but now that we were older the cave was getting pretty cramped, and uncomfortably warm.

No sooner had I begun to fall asleep at long last than I jolted upright. There was another rat approaching! I could smell him, coming up the tunnel to our nest. His smell was different from Father's; sharper, more bitter, and with the taint of dried blood mixed in. Now I could hear his movement, closer and closer… It was only one rat, as far as I could tell, but a grown one, and a large one at that.

I tensed, preparing to leap. I hadn't gone into rager mode since the fight at the Garden, but I felt sure of my abilities. Any second now… any second…

The stranger entered the cave, and I relaxed immediately. It was a rat all right, a large male, but he walked slowly, with his head hung low and his tail dragging on the ground. He looked sad, and one sniff confirmed my suspicions.

As the rat walked across the threshold, Mother lifted her head, snarling. "Who is this that enters our cave while we're asleep? Leave, or I'll-"

The rat sighed wearily. "Even if I wanted to attack you, I doubt I could. I've journeyed here from the Plain of Tartarus, many hours away. Wrathspur is your mate, is he not? I was traveling with him on-"

"What about him?" growled Mother suspiciously. "What about my-"

"I'm afraid he's been killed," said the other rat, bowing his head lower, as if that were possible.

The world swam around me, the cave, my siblings, my mother, all threatening to blank out. Father dead? My father, dead? I was acutely aware of my claws digging into the soft filth of the nest, the dirt becoming trapped beneath my fingernails. It took every morsel of strength to remain silent.

I expected Mother to cry out, like I so desperately wanted to, but she merely stared coldly onward. "How did this happen?"

"It was the killers," answered the other rat. "A small band of them, riding on their fliers. It wasn't his fault. He told me he'd only be gone for a short while, to catch a meal, but by the time I found him, he was lying in a pool of blood, and I could see the monsters flying away in the distance. I chased after them for a while, but…" The rat stopped, apparently unable to continue.

Unable to contain myself any longer, I cried out, a howl of pure anguish. My father, my father who'd taught us to hunt, who'd told me I was a rager, who'd been so angry when I'd sneaked away with Flayclaw… it was a mistake! Father couldn't be dead. He was too great a soldier to be overwhelmed by a few humans.

And yet it was true. I knew in my heart that it was true. This grown rat wouldn't lie, would he? Certainly not about anything so serious. No, my father was gone, gone forever, and there was nothing I could do.

My cry roused my siblings, who leapt to their feet in confusion, smelling the strange rat. I could see my brothers and Flayclaw tensing, preparing for a fight. In response, the rat merely smiled remorsefully, not looking as if he cared whether or not he was attacked.

"Who are you? And where is Father?" demanded Flayclaw, pushing my brothers out of the way with a casual sweep of her tail as she strode forward, intent on eliminating the threat. She stopped feet from her intended victim, puzzled, when he did not even raise his head.

"You don't understand," said the rat weakly. "I was on patrol with your father. There was a fight. I would have helped, but I arrived too late. He was beset by a party of killers mounted on fliers, and by the time I found him he was bleeding to death. The killers had fled. There was nothing I could do. But I heard what he said last. He told me… to take care… of… his family…" The rat broke down, and covered his face with his paws, his body racked with involuntary spasms, tears streaming down his muzzle and falling to the filthy floor of our nest, the nest that Father had made.

At this, all of my siblings, even bold, tough Flayclaw, each began to howl. For what felt like hours, our howls and cries reverberated through the caverns, rebounding from the cliff to the river, the Waterway to the Firelands, the lone memento of our sheer pain.

…

"He was a valiant fighter," murmured the rat, some time after our keening had ended. My siblings and Mother were lying about like stones, unable to move. "I saw in the distance that two of the killers were supporting a limp third between them, and I smelled their blood mixed in with your Father's. He would have easily defeated them, had he not been so drastically outnumbered; seven to his one."

Flayclaw turned on him, snarling ferociously. "You beast! Why didn't you give chase to them, avenge Father?"

"I tried to," mumbled the rat shamefacedly. "I followed them through several caverns, but they flew far ahead, and I lost them. Believe me, if there was anything I could have done for Wrathspur, I would."

"Forgive me," said Flayclaw tonelessly, backing away.

The rat got to his feet and headed for the opening. "Wrathspur may have been overwhelmed, but he was a brave and honorable rat. I've known him for a long time, and he was one of the best creatures I've ever met. Each of you would do well to follow in his footsteps, to carry on his legacy," he said, and I noticed with a pang of guilt that he seemed to be looking especially at _me,_ almost as if he knew my secret.

"Well, I must be off. I'll have to notify the king of Wrathspur's death. I'm sure he'll be devastated." And with that, the rat trudged off down the tunnel, and was soon lost from sight.

I won't describe the next day or so in detail. Even now, years after the fact, the memories are still painful. Gnawers don't spend as much time mourning as humans, but we were still young, and to lose your father in such an abrupt way is traumatic for any species.

My family lamented. So did I, but my grieving was disrupted by the shame which kept resurfacing and nagging at me, like a particularly annoying shiner. I knew that I was a rager, that I could avenge Father's death. Yet, here I was, mourning and doing nothing. Father had told me not to disclose the fact that I was a rager. He had warned me repeatedly about it. But I was almost grown now. Surely I was old enough to make my own decision?

I felt torn in half. One part of me argued to track down the killers who had killed Father and avenge his death; the other side insisted that I keep my abilities secret until I was older. Both halves of me felt that following the other would be a disgrace to Father's memory.

Huddled in the corner, I burst into confused tears. Instantly, I was ashamed with myself. What would Father have said if he'd seen me crying? Tears were for females, not males, and definitely not ragers. Father would have been most disappointed. This thought, in turn, made me cry all the harder.

Some time later (it could have been minutes; it could have been weeks), my family was finally asleep, huddled together like we had when we were pups, only now with Mother as part of the pile. I was the only one awake, quietly standing by the opening. For the first time, it was clear what I had to do. It was my duty, my destiny.

I marched forward, and then paused. I couldn't just walk out on my family, and never let them know where I'd gone. They'd just lost Father, too. I wouldn't want to double their worries.

I turned to the wall, and dug my claw into the soft stone. I tried to think of something to write, a final message to my family, one that would stay in the stone of our nest forever and ever. It was a hard decision. I pondered for a while, then managed to carve out a jagged _I WILL BE ALL RIGHT._ Not good, but it would do.

I stood at the cave mouth for a long time, taking in all the scents of our nest, of my family, of my brothers and sisters. I would never smell them again, never again feel safe and protected in our cozy little nest. I was truly on my own now.

After I had gathered my wits about me, I softly murmured, "Goodbye, Mother. Goodbye, Flayclaw, Darkmuzzle, Rockrind, Rustbolt, Bristlecoat. I promise I'll come back someday, when I'm a great warrior." The sound of my words bounced around the cave, echoing from every nook and cranny of the nest I'd grown up in, that I'd lived my life in. I took one last breath, one last glance, and then I was gone, down the tunnel. That was the last time I saw any of them, except for-

But that part comes later. For now, I was a young rat, no longer a pup, which had left in the night, away from all I'd known and loved, away, away, away.

…

Tracking the messenger rat's scent was fairly easy at first. He had taken a straightforward path from our nest down through the tunnels which I'd played in as a pup. I didn't know how far I would be able to follow him, but he'd said he was travelling to notify the king of Father's death, so I figured that it had to be a start.

It felt strange to be on my own; frightening, but at the same time strangely liberating. Nose to the ground, I tracked the rat up and down, in and out of caves and through winding tunnels. The scent was faint in some places, and I lost my way more than once. It was fairly easy when the path led through caves that were familiar to me, but when the tunnels started to become unfamiliar, I became confused more easily. I found myself losing the scent and backtracking more often now.

I was soon farther than I'd ever been from my cave, even when we'd visited the Garden of the Hesperides. I felt vulnerable, unprotected. What if I was attacked? I wasn't yet certain of my rager abilities. What if they deserted me at a time of need? Or what if I became lost, and couldn't find the scent back, and was doomed to die in these deserted tunnels? The worries plagued me, threatening to drag me down with their sheer weight.

After a few hours had passed, I found myself in a particularly large cave. I could sense the stalactites hanging far above me, and had to weave my way through the stalagmites pointing upward from the floor like claws. There were mushrooms, too. I could smell them, and I stopped to eat some. Several were of kinds familiar to me, while others I recognized as poisonous. There were also several which I didn't know. I steered clear of these. Better not to take any chances.

When I had eaten my fill, I rested, slumped against a large pillar. I deliberately cut my rest short, pushing myself onward in an attempt to cover as much ground as possible. My family would certainly have discovered that I was missing by now, and might have decided to track me.

I could smell traces of other gnawers, and even caught glimpses of them every now and then, scurrying about their business, hunting, playing. None paid any attention the young rat trotting purposefully through their caverns.

When I'd first set out, I'd been sad, but also cheerful in a way, excited to be doing something real for the first time in my life. That feeling was gone now. I was famished and exhausted, and the trail was getting fainter with every step. I was tempted to turn back. My family must be worried sick, especially so soon after Father's death. It was like when I'd run off with Flayclaw as a pup, only much worse.

It was not long before I lost my scent-trail entirely. I was slowly advancing through a narrow tunnel, my claws clicking dully on the rocks, when the sent dissipated from my nose entirely. At first I thought I'd made a mistake, but I had been sure of the scent when I'd entered this tunnel, and there had been no veering-off points since then. No, I was well and truly alone now, with nothing to guide me.

Not for the first time, I considered backtracking. But as I had so many months ago as a pup setting out to explore with Flayclaw, I knew that I'd never live with myself if I did. I had to avenge Father, and this was the only way possible.

It was possible to judge the general direction that the rat had been travelling in, and follow that course. For the next several hours, I guided myself through the tunnels, often backtracking if a tunnel took me too far off the original course. It was slow work, and I was tired. I was much farther than I'd ever been from my nest, and consequently had little experience with pacing myself.

Just as I was thinking that I ought to stop and rest again, I came out into a wide cavern, stretching out far beyond my echolocation on either side. The cave was not particularly deep. I could easily sense the opposing wall, and the tunnels set in it. Separating both sides of the cavern was a great gorge, many lengths deep. I could hear a distant rushing far below, and knew that there was a river at the bottom of the chasm.

I assessed the problem. The canyon was way too wide to leap over, and it didn't seem wise to scale the cliff to the bottom and forge the river there. Even if the current was mild enough to risk crossing, I didn't know what kind of creatures lived in this strange water. Father had told us of giant fish that lived in certain rivers, and fed on flesh…

The thought of Father gave me strength. There had to be a way to cross. Maybe the gorge got narrower at some point. Maybe it was jumpable. I had to try.

I smelled that there had been rats nearby not long ago. They had gone to the left. Hoping to find something, I followed the faint trail.

After strolling along the river bank for a while, I came to a place where there was… _something…_ over the river. It was made of stone, but the stone was not natural. It had been changed, carved into rectangular slats, which were held together in a row by a substance I vaguely recognized as spinner's silk. One end of the row of slats hung from the near bank, and the other end from the edge opposite, so that one could cross by walking on the stone from one bank to another. It was a _bridge._ But would it hold my weight?

It seemed likely. I could smell that other rats had used the bridge recently, and I was still not yet full size. If they could cross, I should certainly be able to. But what if I slipped off the bridge and fell into the endless chasm beneath?

There was only one way to find out…

I stepped onto the bridge first with my front paws, then with my back. No sooner had I planted my back paws on the stone slat than the entire bridge swayed ominously. I gave a yelp, but did not draw back, and proceeded forward.

It was an uneasy feeling to have the thin stone slats clicking beneath your paws, the only things keeping you above the river. Were they to give way… every echoing click of my claws reminded me of just how far I would fall. Nevertheless, I managed to put one foot in front of the other, and it wasn't until I reached the middle that the fear truly hit me.

The river raged below, a churning mass of water. Far above, suspended almost in midair, I trembled with fear. Those thin, narrow slats… if I started to slip, they would be nothing to dig my claws into. The bridge jiggled with even the slightest movement, threatening to pitch me into the river. I wanted to rush back to the other side, but the logical side of me saw just how stupid that would be. I had already come halfway.

Robotically, I placed a paw forward. I placed another paw forward. I placed another paw forward. I placed another paw forward. Stiffly, I began to march up the other side of the bridge's incline. I thought about how it would be if I wasn't above a canyon. It would be easy, wouldn't it? Easy… easy… only a few slats left… only a few more… just one more stride…

Stepping onto firm ground was the best thing I've ever experienced (apart from being made the Peacemaker, of course). My claws dug into the stone, the wonderful cold stone… my knees buckled as I trembled all over with weakness, and I almost fell into the chasm. That would have been _really_ embarrassing. But no, after I had gotten my bearings I continued on into a nearby tunnel.

Crossing the bridge had left me so tense that I practically dashed through the series of caverns and tunnels. I hadn't eaten or slept in a long time, but I barely noticed. I proceeded on my careless way… until with a start I noticed that two rats had materialized, seemingly out of the stone, and were blocking my path.

The rats didn't look like ones I'd want to mess with, even with my (albeit untested) rager abilities. Not only were they large enough to dwarf Father, they were also pockmarked by what looked like the scars of numerous battles. One was missing an eye, and the other limped slightly on his right forepaw. Both of them were smirking as they stared at me, sizing me up. Well, if they wanted a fight, they were in for more than they'd anticipated. I could already feel the rager sensation bubbling up inside me.

"State your name and business," demanded the one with the limp, and I realized that they were guards.

"I need to see the king," I growled, in no mood to parry with these rats, not so soon after Father's death.

"And your name is…?" prompted the one with the missing eye.

"Ripred," I practically snarled, becoming increasingly frustrated. Why couldn't they just get out of the way?

"Well, _pup,_ the king has more important things to do than fraternize with half-grown brats like you," said One-Eye. "Now, hurry on back to your mother."

This comment angered me. I may not yet have been fully grown, but I was at the age where I ought to have been taken seriously. "It's urgent. When the king hears about this, he won't be happy that you tried to delay me. I can guarantee you that."

"Oh?" inquired the limping rat with mock curiosity. "And what might it be that's so important?"

I hesitated slightly before I broke the taboo that had been so deeply ingrained in me by my father, before I spoke the three words that would define the next chapter of my life.

"I'm a rager."


	7. King Bloodsheen

Okay, so here's the latest. Sorry it took so long. I've been busy with school, _The Hunger Games, _et cetera. And I feel pressurized to do it right. I remember hearing some eight-year-old piano genius on the radio a few months ago. He said that he felt he had to play the pieces right, that it was "disrespectful to the composer" if he messed up. At the time I thought that was silly, that they were putting too much pressure on the kid, but now I realize that I feel the same way. I would feel like I'd insulted the story if I got anything wrong, any facts or anything. Maybe I'm just too hard on myself, but there you have it.

Enjoy. Or else.

* * *

My words did not quite have the grand effect that I had expected them to. Instead of being awed to silence, the two rats guarding the passage stared blankly at each other for a moment, and then burst into peals of laughter.

"Very funny, pup," managed One-Eye. "Very funny indeed. Now go on back to your cave to play with your little friends. We grown-up rats have important business to attend to."

I stood there in the tunnel, facing the two guards, trying to suppress the angry tears that were beginning to flow. Why wouldn't anyone just _listen?_

"Seriously, you ought to leave," growled the one with the limp, sounding impatient now. "We don't have all season."

Still I stood my ground, my paws planted firmly on the stone floor, my legs too tense to move.

Well, well, well," said the one with the limp. "Looks like this one needs to be taught a lesson about respecting his elders. What do you think, Ratchet?"

"I think so," said One-Eye, and, chuckling nastily, he and his companion began to advance.

I openly welcomed the rager sensation. I was not only willing, but eager to fight these guards, teach _them_the lesson, make them think twice before they bullied someone else. The rager in me took control of my limbs, working them like a marionette, my claws shredding anything that came within reach, my tail lashing back and forth at lightning speed like a whip, my head snapping around to bite at their tails and limbs.

But these rats knew how to fight. They'd been in many battles, whereas all I had under my belt were a few lessons with Father. They blocked even my most vicious attacks, and knew how to fight as a pair; rushing at me from opposite directions, one coming up behind me while I was engaged with the other. The narrowness of the tunnel didn't help either, and I had to be cautious of extending my limbs or tail too far, for fear of hitting the wall.

And suddenly, whether it was from the rager side of me or simply from my own ingenuity, I knew what to do. I lifted myself up on my hind legs and began to spin, my front claws doing the slashing. I could sense, with some part of me, the guards becoming weaker and starting to give in, but I kept fighting, clawing away, eager to tear, to kill…

"No! Stop! All right, we give up! We'll take you to the king! Just calm down!"

These words helped to rouse me from my trance, and I paused. With a great effort, I managed to wrench myself back to consciousness. There was blood spilled across the floor of the tunnel, and splattered on my coat… but it wasn't mine. I squeaked. The rats were several feet away. Neither of them seemed seriously injured, but both were sporting several new blemishes in their already flawed coats.

"Very well, then," I said calmly. "Lead the way."

The two rats got to their feet wordlessly and began to stride purposefully through the tunnels. I followed in their wake, marching briskly to keep up.

We came out of the tunnel and into a huge cavern. The ceiling extended far above our heads and many lengths outward, the far side registering only hazily with my echolocation. The cavern also extended downward. I had come out onto a ledge above a great canyon, which filled most of the cavern. Compared to this, the chasm I'd crossed a short while ago seemed like a tiny fissure in the stone. I peered into the gaping chasm and squeaked, but I could sense no sort of bottom at all. It was simply too deep for my ears.

"Come along, now," said One-Eye testily, and I turned and followed him along the narrow ledge, keeping one ear on the guards and the other on the abyss. The ledge was pretty thin, and one misstep would send me hurdling into the great canyon. It had to become wider sometime, I reasoned, or the guards wouldn't have led me this way. Unless they were planning to…?

As if he had read my mind, the limping guard said, "Watch your step, pup. Even a _rager_ wouldn't survive the fall if we decided to pitch him in." More nasty chuckles. I said nothing, but for the rest of the journey I lagged behind the two guards.

The ledge eventually deepened , to reveal a natural stone archway in the wall. I could sense a wide space beyond, and a large depression in the ground at the end of it.

"A pit," said One-Eye in response to my unasked question. "To imprison those who do not obey."

I stood there for a moment, lost in thought. How many rats had been tortured here? What crimes had they committed? The entire place reeked of death and decay, and for a moment I thought I could feel the spirits of the rats who had died in the pit. A chill ran down my spine.

"Come _along!"_ snapped the limping rat.

I followed the guards past the archway, and back onto the narrow ledge on the other side. It was not long before we came to a tunnel in the stone, extending backward for an indeterminate length. The guards led me into the tunnel. We turned left. Walked up a corkscrewing path. Turned right. Walked down the tunnel, and came to an opening at the end. I could see light beyond.

The opening was blocked by yet another rat. I didn't need the dim light to be able to see his unfriendly glare. "Ratchet. Twingetail. What are you doing here? And who's the mite with you?"

"It's a matter of urgency," responded the one with the limp, Twingetail. "This pup needs to see the king at once. He says he has important news."

"King Bloodsheen is too busy to make time for every mangy pup who wishes to see him. Send him away," growled the guard.

"With all respect, his request does seem worth considering," said Ratchet. "The boy claims to be a rager."

"Indeed?" asked the guard, looking genuinely surprised. "A rager? Perhaps he _should_ see the king." He turned his gaze upon me. "But be warned, pup, those who waste the king's time don't always turn out happily." He stepped aside with a sarcastic bow.

Eagerly, I pushed forward, all three guards hurrying behind. I trotted into the cavern… and stopped short, taking in the wonder of it all.

It was a fairly large cavern, much larger than our nest at home. The luminous fungi grew on every surface, glowing brightly from every nook and cranny of the cave. Light fell on the numerous gems and crystals scattered uselessly about the floor, and the rocky pool of water in a corner large enough for a grown rat to bathe in, as was of course the intention. The light shone off the shelf of rock on the far side of the cavern, about the shape and size of a bed, and covered with soft, comfortable moss.

Lounging on the stone bed was a large rat with an elegant burgundy coat. The first thing I noticed about him was his powerful body… or what had once been powerful, long ago, in the king's younger days. He was still large, but in a different way, with a massive stomach that spilled over onto the bed. I also noted a patch of wispy whitish fur around his muzzle… white with age, not naturally.

Upon my arrival, King Bloodsheen heaved himself, with some difficulty, into a sitting position. For a minute he silently surveyed me, or perhaps he was simply too lazy to work his jaw. When he finally did speak, I almost jumped.

"Pup. What is your name?" The king's voice was low and rumbling; pleasant, if you ignored the fact that he had called me a pup. With the guards it had been one thing, as they'd obviously been trying to goad me, but the king had thought me a pup out of sheer ignorance, which somehow made it a million times more offensive.

"Ripred, your majesty," I said, a slight tremor in my voice.

The king surveyed me through beady eyes almost hidden by rolls of fat. "Ripred… of Wrathspur's litter, were you not? Yes, I knew your father. I was most disheartened to hear of his death."

King Bloodsheen's words had pierced me to the heart, but through my sorrow, I seemed to notice a whiff of some strong emotion in the air… fear?

"Yes, your majesty," I answered quickly.

"So… why have you come to see me?"

At this, one of the guards, who was hovering near the opening, spoke up. "Sir, the pup claims to be a-"

"SILENCE!" thundered the king, so loudly that a pebble fell from above and plinked to the floor nearby. "Let the boy speak for himself. Ripred, why have you come?"

"I-I'm a rager, your majesty," I stuttered.

The king was a long time in responding. Finally, he said, "I see. How long have you known of this talent?"

"Since I was a pup, sir," I said. "I got in a fight with…" I trailed off, in no mood to detail my quarrel with Cleaver.

"Interesting," rumbled the king. "So your ability is untested?"

"Yes, sir."

"But you are sure of it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Ripred, we are indeed in want of your abilities. Negotiations with both the humans and the spinners have broken down, and we may be facing a war with either or both in the foreseeable future. Having a rager on our side will be an irreplaceable asset to our army."

Standing there, I was puzzled at the king's instant acceptance of my rager abilities. The guards had laughed at me when I'd told them, my own father had taken weeks to figure it out, but King Bloodsheen had believed me immediately, almost without question. Of course, the king hadn't struck me as a particularly intelligent or inquisitive type, but still…

"In the meantime," the king was saying, "I assume that you're weary from your journey. You may pick any cavern that you like in the nearby tunnels to be your own. You may wander where you will, but do not go too far, and stay away from the Great Chasm that you saw on your way here. The ground is unstable there. Other than that, you have free reign, except for your lessons, which should start soon. There is a lake nearby, and caverns full of mushrooms, which should be adequate for your food supply."

"Lessons, your majesty?"

The king laughed, a rollicking, booming sound. His enormous belly wobbled like jello. "You may be a rager, young Ripred, but you still have much to learn about fighting in an army. I shall make sure that you are taught. In the meantime, make yourself at home." And with that, the conversation was over.

…

The lake was rather large, with many curves and inlets, and tunnel openings on every side. After exploring the tunnels nearby and getting the general layout of the land, I chose a cavern near the lakeside to be my own. The first night was terrible. I kept rolling over, wanting desperately to cuddle up with my siblings… and not being able to. I finally slept huddled in a corner, my back pressed against the icy stone wall, my belly exposed to the air, easy prey for any adversary who might chance to enter the cave.

Indeed, it was quite a long time before I got used to sleeping on my own, which turned out to be the way I would sleep for the rest of my life, with a few exceptions.

The next morning I was visited by a messenger. "Your first fighting lesson shall take place today at the training field. Be there promptly in three hours." After giving me directions on how to get to the training field, he departed.

I set out at the proper time. Upon entering the training field, a large, high-ceilinged cave that seemed to stretch out forever in every direction, the first things I sensed were the rats. Rats everywhere, sparring, leaping, snapping, their tails flicking back and forth and all about, their claws slicing erratically. One rat skidded across the ground on his back, coming to a stop not ten feet from me. Without a word, the rat leapt to his feet and rejoined the fray.

I stood on the edge of it all, unsure of what to do… surely the messenger had gotten the time wrong. Nobody here was giving me a second glance. I was just about to leave when I perceived a change.

Instead of continuing to spar with each other like partners in some bizarre dance, the gnawers were now silent and still. Not a whisker twitched. Everyone was facing toward the far side of the field, where a single rat had risen to his hind legs.

"FORM RANKS!" he bellowed, his voice making my ears twinge.

There was a great shuffling in the cavern as the rats wordlessly rearranged themselves. Within a surprisingly short amount of time, they were standing in a new formation entirely. Now, instead of standing scattered across the cavern, they were arranged in an enormous rectangle, shoulder to shoulder, row upon row, each staring solemnly forward. The speed and ease at which they had all moved as a group was quite intimidating.

Standing at the tunnel mouth, half in and half out, I slowly began to shrink back. Clearly I had come at the wrong time. These lessons were for experienced soldiers, not novices like me. I should leave right now, before anyone-

"You!" bellowed the rat standing at the head of the formation. "You in the back!" He waved his tail in my direction, and I realized that he meant me.

"What?" I managed to squeak.

"Come forward. Now!"

I stumbled forward, through the ranks of soldiers, who shifted slightly to clear my path. After an eternity, I finally reached the front. The commander was a big brute of a soldier, as large as those two tunnel guards had been.

"So, pup," he said, his voice at a level tone but dripping with menace all the same, "Why did you not form ranks with the rest?"

"It's my first time, sir. I-I don't know how…"

"Idiocy is no excuse," hissed the head rat, his face in mine. "What is your name?"

"Ripred, sir."

"Well, Ripred, you are now a part of the military force for the gnawer nation. You will treat those above your rank with deference. Tell me, who arranged for you to be part of the military?"

"King Bloodsheen, sir."

The commander scowled. "King Bloodsheen? Nonsense! The insolence of it! How dare you presume to-"

"I'm a rager, sir," I said quietly.

I could sense the soldiers in the cavern all looking at me with awe. In front of me, the head rat scratched at his head unconcernedly. "So it is you? _You_are the rager they are talking about? You don't look like much."

The commander could be excused for this impolite comment. I was still young, and in the short period of time since Father's death I had eaten a dangerously small amount, and as a result I was scrawny, with damp, bedraggled fur. Perhaps everyone expected a rager to be a massive, twice-sized hulk, like the legendary white rat, not a plain, featureless adolescent.

Without warning, the head rat swung his tail in my direction. I started, and squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for the blow… that never came. I squeaked, and found that his tail was inches from my face, clasped in my paw. Without meaning to, I had blocked him.

"So," said the commander thoughtfully. "You're the one they told me about. The _rager,_ the young _prodigy,_ well to me you're nothing but another worthless brat to teach. If you want to get out of the army alive, you'll follow my commands to the letter. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, then. My name is General Coilthroat. I will be your instructor."

While the other rats in the troop returned to their play-fighting, General Coilthroat led me through a series of rigorous tests. First I was forced to run laps around the perimeter of the cavern. I started out beautifully, with a burst of speed, the air rushing past me, my paws flying across the dirt. By the third lap, I was stumbling, zigzagging, my tongue hanging almost to the ground, my paws and tail scraped raw on the stone floor. A stitch in my side had erupted, and I felt its jab every time I moved. Still Coilthroat pushed me harder and harder. If I paused even for a moment, he would smack me in the face, and I would reel with pain.

When General Coilthroat finally allowed me to stop, I collapsed on the cold floor, wanting nothing more than to crumble and die, become part of the stone, the lifeless, never-moving stone. But that didn't work out. General Coilthroat forced me to my feet, and led me across the cavern, to a place where the walls were made of smooth rock and extended far upward, to heights unreachable.

"Climb," he commanded, and I was scaling the wall, digging my claws into the crumbling stone, scraping footholds when there were none. Sometimes I had to leap upward to grasp a clawhold, which was exceedingly dangerous. Coilthroat silently stood and watched me, taking note of my mistakes, observing my technical skill.

And so the tests went on. Swimming, fighting, flexibility… every movement I thought would be my last, and yet somehow I managed to find the strength for one more, one more, one more. On and on, until it seemed that all of eternity would be spent in endless pain and torment. It was my first dose of true exhaustion, of which there would be more to come, much more.

Finally, after a particularly trying test of how high I could leap, I collapsed to the ground, my breath coming in uneven gasps. Let General Coilthroat abuse me, let him torment me, but I would not move a muscle. I was as immobile as the stone. I could have lain there forever without the tip of my tail so much at twitching.

I could sense the cavern ceiling, far above. I could hear each individual stalactite, each deadly point. I could also sense Coilthroat, standing nearby. Whatever I was in for, it had to be better than moving again… I could take anything he gave to me, so long as I didn't have to work my muscles…

Coilthroat walked over to me, shaking his head. "Well, pup, I honestly expected more from a rager, even on your first time, but if that is truly the best you can do…" He sighed again, as if already dreading his next lesson with me.

I nodded weakly. Anything, so long as I didn't have to move. Even the prospect of being a soldier seemed distant and far away, unimportant. Rest was top priority. I could attend to everything else later.

After a vague length of time, I rolled to my feet. General Coilthroat was gone. Practice seemed to be over. The cavern was less full, and the rats that remained were lounging about and chatting unconcernedly, as if they had all the time in the world.

One rat walked up to me. He was young, I noticed, only a few months older than me. "So," he asked in a timid voice, "You're the rager?"

I nodded wordlessly.

"The entire Underland's buzzing about you. Some even say you're going to fulfill the Prophecy of the Crown."

I was taken aback. "What?"

"The Prophecy of the Crown," repeated the rat patiently. "You know, the prophecy by Sandwich."

"What does Sandwich have to do with anything?" I asked, nonplussed.

"Haven't you ever heard of Sandwich's prophecies?"

"Father told me about how Sandwich and the other killers invaded the Underland and killed the diggers. What's a prophecy?" And what was a crown?

"You see," began the rat, "Sandwich was evil, but he was wise in the twisted way of killers. He could tell about things that were yet to come, and know of them before they happened. Most thought he was crazy, but as time went on they found that everything he predicted came true."

My head spun with new information. Not only had Sandwich been a cruel monster, but he had been able to predict the future as well? Why had Father not told us? Had he wanted to shelter me? Had he been planning to tell us when we grew older, before he had been killed?

My mind teemed with all these questions. The only one I succeeded in voicing, however, was, "What's the Prophecy of the Crown about?"

"It's about the king and queen- the human king and queen, not King Bloodsheen. It has to do with their crown, the golden band they wear around the very top of their heads to signify their royalty. It's going to change allegiance… from hand to silver paw, or something like that. I can't remember the exact wording. But there's going to be a shift in power, and the rats are going to become even more powerful. They're saying you'll be the one to capture the crown."

"I understand," I managed, even though I didn't, then quickly changed the subject. "In the meantime…"

"Oh, don't worry about General Coilthroat," the rat said earnestly. "He's harsh, but you'll get better soon. I promise!" And with than, he scampered off, leaving me alone in the middle of the training field.


	8. Ripred the Big Gray Rat

I could have had this up earlier, but I was too immersed in _Brisingr_ to do it. Anyways, Ripred's grown a lot lately, and that's a big leap to make with his dialogue. Even now, I'm not sure I made him sound completely like an adult.

And the king of the humans is named Clyvan. It's a name I made up, and I thought it sounded sufficiently Underland-ish.

* * *

Over the next few weeks and months I slowly grew stronger. I could feel my muscles hardening, knotting into tough cords beneath my skin. It gave me a sense of pride, of invincibility. I was a rager, wasn't I? It was only appropriate that my body should be an able vessel.

My body had finally matured into full adulthood. I was tall, taller than most rats, and powerfully built. I had the potential to be a great warrior; even General Coilthroat grudgingly admitted it.

For now, I was learning how to channel my potential. My training, which took place several days a week, taught me more about the art of war than I ever could have imagined. I learned how to form ranks with the other soldiers, which, it turned out, was useful for more than intimidation. I learned how to fight with other rats as one. The secret of it, I learned, had nothing to do with your ability as a fighter. It was all in the mind. You had to learn to think as one with the other soldiers, to simultaneously come up with the same plan of attack. It was a subtle art, and a difficult one.

Each day, right before training began, I sparred with the other rats on the field. During each make-believe fight, I could feel the rager sensation within me. Since I was never faced with a true threat, my rager self never came to the fore or took hold of me. Still, I was able to beat anyone I tried myself against.

I learned the subtleties of battle; the formations and troop patterns, the strategic positioning of the army that would give us a greater chance of winning. Most common soldiers, like the ones in my regiment, were never taught about troop formations and the like, but my being a rager gave me priority over the other rats. It was likely that I would become a powerful general with a long military career, and high-ranking officers needed to know how to place their troops to further insure victory.

I had expected the lessons on tactics to be difficult, but they turned out to be one of the easiest subjects. I took to them like I had taken to the Tree of Transmission as a pup. My instructor, a youngish but prominent soldier named Smiter, told me that I was a natural.

"Whether for your keen intelligence or for your rager abilities, the army shall be pleased indeed to have you," he told me one day as he swept the small cave's earthen floor clean, erasing several hours' worth of complex diagrams. "You shall one day rise to greatness throughout all of the Underland, mark my words."

Something in what Smiter had said rang a bell, vaguely reminding me of something I'd heard not long ago. It took me a moment to place my claw on it. "How does the Prophecy of the Crown go?"

Smiter stared at me, mildly surprised. "The Prophecy of the Crown? What would cause you to be asking after that?"

"One of the rats at practice mentioned it," I said nonchalantly, not revealing that the rat's words had been weighing heavily on me for the past several weeks. "He said that I might be the one to fulfill it."

"Fulfill it? Indeed? Very well, then," sighed Smiter. "It's been a while since I last heard the prophecy, but I believe it goes something like this." He sat back and, switching to Human, recited in a sort of chant:

"DEATH BY WATER, DEATH BY STONE

FOR THE DEATH YOU MUST ATONE

THE GOLDEN CROWN OF LOVE AND WAR

IS WORN BY HUMAN HEAD NO MORE.

"THE FESTOONED RING, THE GILDED WREATH

FROM FAR ABOVE TO DEEP BENEATH

SHALL PASS FROM HAND TO SIVER PAW

OBEYING YET THE AGE-OLD LAW.

"So there you have it," finished Smiter. "Or at least you have the prophecy itself. The exact meaning is unknown. Scholars from every species have attempted to decipher it for several hundred years, without success. Only the basics of it are clear. The crown will be stolen by the rats, apparently as atonement for some evil that the killers have committed. Perhaps the killer king or queen shall be killed themselves in the process. Other than that, we don't know."

"What exactly _is_ a crown?" I asked. The other rat that I'd met on the training field that first day had explained it, but I wasn't completely sure.

"A crown is a thin circlet that is with an open center, about this wide," said Smiter, placing his front paws less than a foot apart from each other. "The kings and queens of the killers wear it around the crest of their head as a symbol of their power."

"But how does it fit? Doesn't it hurt their head? Why would they need to wear it, anyways?"

"Questions, questions," grumbled Smiter. "Well, I suppose a few more can't hurt. The killer monarchs wear crowns to show their power over the common people. Don't ask me why. Killer customs are indeed strange. As for it hurting their heads, it actually fits quite snugly. Perhaps you've never seen a human, but their heads are rounded, like a boulder, with a tiny nose and receded eyes and ears. The crown fits easily onto their head."

I tried to bring to mind the long-ago image of the killers. Had their heads really been rounded like boulders? Yes, they had. I remembered thinking that it was odd at the time. "Did Sandwich write any more prophecies? Besides the Prophecy of the Crown, I mean?"

"Of course he did," Smiter answered wearily, beginning to noticeably tire of my questions. "But few bode as well for the rats as the Prophecy of the Crown. Many are obscure and worrisome, particularly a set of prophecies about a warrior from the Overland. Nobody knows when the warrior will come, but his arrival shall, by all interpretations, mean disaster for the gnawers. That is why every Overlander who falls from above must be killed at once. None can be allowed to live."

"I see. How do these warrior prophecies go?" I asked.

"Now, that's enough," answered Smiter crankily. Knowing that nothing I could say would change his mind, I dejectedly left the cave.

…

Outside of lessons, I talked with few. This was not entirely my fault. The other gnawers knew of my rager ability, and were intimidated by me. They made an effort to stay out of my way, undoubtedly afraid that I would somehow get in a fight with them and end up killing them.

Yet even with my outcast status, I couldn't fail to sense the tension building up within the gnawer nation. It was a time of instability; the humans and rats were no longer communicating, and the situation with the spinners was even worse. At night, curled up in my new nest, I could hear Tree of Transmission messages being passed back and forth between the rats, bringing the latest updates on the spinner situation.

That was another thing I was learning; how a war began. It happened slowly, a process as opposed to an event. There were a few defining moments, but overall, the beginning of our war with the spinners was a slow downward movement as tensions increased between the species.

It had begun several months before, as a dispute over a parcel of land (or something equally boring, I don't quite remember). King Bloodsheen and his men (okay, so it was mainly his men) managed to negotiate and solve the first dispute before hostilities broke out, but other disagreements were already brewing. The spinners did not want gnawer guards patrolling their territories. The gnawers had refused to revoke their guard, as the spinners' land backed on caverns belonging to the fliers, known enemies of the gnawers. As a response, Queen Savox had halted all trade with the rats. This had badly affected us, as spinner silk was much valued. Still the rats refused to abandon their patrol in the spinners' land.

And so it went. Each day brought the gnawers and spinners closer to the brink of war. The mood in the rats' caverns was unnaturally subdued. Males stayed close to the nest while hunting. Mothers would become frantic if their pups went missing, afraid that they might have wandered far away and been caught in a spinner's web. Families were known to stock up on supplies of food, not caring if it spoiled and became unfit to eat. Everyone was bunkering down for the long haul.

One rat, however, was not bunkering down. I might as well have been a human, for all the demands placed on me. My lessons were doubled; every day I showed up at the training field, whether for group training or individual tutoring. Coilthroat was pushing all of us, but especially me, twice as hard, forcing us onward until we collapsed.

There were other demands, too. One day, after a particularly long training session, I was visited in my nest by a courier. "Ripred," he said, "You are required to attend a council of war in the king's caverns at this time tomorrow."

I blinked. "A council of war? Who else is invited?"

"Only the king and a few generals, sir."

"Why have I been invited? I have little experience in battle." Okay, so I had none at all, unless you count tussling with my siblings as experience.

"I believe, sir, that the king wishes to hear your opinion. If you have any objections, you may take it up with him at the meeting tomorrow."

"Very well, then," I said lazily. "You may be dismissed."

The courier departed, leaving me alone, to stare at the walls and wonder. Why was I invited to some top-secret war council? It seemed that being a rager automatically made me an insider, a powerful figure… or figurehead.

The next day, I set out for King Bloodsheen's caverns. I reached his nest on time, but there was a slight bit of confusion as to where the council was being held. By the time I had arrived, panting, at the true location of the meeting, a smaller cave down the tunnel, I was late, and the other dozen or so rats were already assembled in a circle on the floor, each sitting up on their haunches.

King Bloodsheen, slumped in a corner with two attendants close at hand, barely glanced up as I entered. For comparison, a lithe, supple rat sitting at the head of the circle (if a circle can be said to have a head, then that is where he was sitting) glared at me with annoyance. I vaguely recognized this rat. His name was Rendflesh, and he was the leader of the massive gnawer army, an individual almost as powerful as the king, if not more so. Right now, he was looking straight at me, fixing me with a stare of such coldness that I recoiled slightly before remembering my position.

"You're late," the high general said, in a way that was designed to humiliate me, and perhaps lower me in the eyes of the other dozen or so generals.

"I'm aware of that," I responded, in no mood to argue. "Perhaps if the messenger had managed to be more specific…"

"Sit down," ordered General Rendflesh icily, and I thought it best to obey. I lowered myself to the ground between two generals.

Satisfied, Rendflesh addressed the entire company. "So," he began in an idle tone, "All now being present, the meeting can begin. As we are all aware, the situation with the spinners worsens as we speak. Three days ago, a guard by the name of Scaleforth who was patrolling in a spinner-controlled area disappeared. Our spies have confirmed that he is now a prisoner of the spinners. In my mind there is no longer any doubt that a war shall break out. The only question is when, and how we shall go about fighting the spinners. Yes, Fraybalk?"

A rat two spaces from me had gotten to his feet. "General Rendflesh, I beg to differ with you on the matter of conflict being inevitable. It is never too late to avert war. If we today approached Queen Savox with an agreement, I am sure that the spinner nation would respond positively. It would be foolish to send our soldiers off on a time-wasting campaign with the spinners, especially since the killers also pose a distinct threat at this point."

"Ah, yes, the killers," said Rendflesh, nodding fervently. "I was hoping to get around to that. Both king Clyvan and the head of the Regalian army, Solovet, are pressing for war. It would be dangerous indeed to expend too much energy on the spinner conflict, while the killers and fliers may be massing for an attack. Now, assuming for a minute that it's not too late for a treaty with the spinners. What would the treaty contain?"

"We must not give on the dispute over patrols," said one rat. "It would be most dangerous to leave the nearby fliers' territory unguarded."

"Perhaps we could lesson our patrol," suggested another. "We could remove the guards from the most heavily populated areas, and yet still have a presence in that region."

"All prisoners must be released immediately," said a third rat. "That a rat is being kept prisoner in the spinners' webs without so much as a notification to our king is purely unacceptable."

"That's uneven ground we're treading on," cautioned a fourth. "If they release all prisoners, then so must we."

"It would be worth it," argued a fifth. "Public support is unpredictable at the moment. We could soon find ourselves with a revolt on our paws."

And so the meeting went on. As you can imagine, it was dreadfully boring stuff, none of it even remotely worth recording here. The generals blabbered on for hour after hour about what to do, throwing all sorts of thoughts, suggestions, and ideas out, none of them meeting with any particular approval and none leading to the start of anything big. I sat, observing it all with disinterest, trying to stay awake. I thought of the bed of dirt back in my nest, and my head slumped down onto my chest…

With difficulty, I jerked myself awake. One general was pacing back and forth in agitation, talking rapidly and loudly, but I was so sleepy that even that seemed hypnotic. Distantly, his words reached my ears… "-will not stand for this type of blackmail! If Queen Savox believes that she can coerce us into submission, she is a fool! The gnawers are of sterner stuff than can be forced to obey by a simple revoking of trade! We will stand strong against the petty bribery and blackmail! We must-"

"Yes, thank you, Lashtail, that will be quite enough," intoned Rendflesh, and Lashtail sat back down, looking slightly embarrassed. "Now… who has not had a chance to speak? Ripred, do you have anything to add? You seem to have been rather quiet so far. Formulating a plan, perhaps?"

"N-no," I stammered, taken aback at being addressed.

"_Really?"_ inquired Rendflesh. "Not a single thought? _Nothing,_ from the great rager?"

What Rendflesh was trying to do was obvious enough. He wanted to make me look like a fool in front of King Bloodsheen and the other generals, by showing that I was clueless as to what to do. Well, that was a game that two could play at.

"None yet, General," I said as politely as I could muster. "How about you?"

I could smell Rendflesh's surprise, and watched as it turned to blotchy anger. "The council has not yet been able to formulate a plan of action," he said coldly, struggling to keep the menace out of his voice.

I smiled lazily at Rendflesh's lame excuse. So he would blame it on the other rats, would he? And who was the one running this council?

Well, that wasn't strictly true. The official head of the assembly, King Bloodsheen, was still lounging in the corner, gnawing on an old bone, his attendants at his side. But it was obvious that he lacked both the ability and the will to run the meeting.

"Now then," continued Rendflesh, eager to change the subject, "Fraybalk, have we received any word from the crawlers? I assume that they have not yet taken a side?"

The general who'd spoken earlier leapt to his feet. "Sir, no alliances have been made with the crawlers by either side, as far as we can tell. Perhaps they have allied themselves with the spinners secretly, but more probably they have chosen to keep out of our dispute. They will not wish to offend either gnawer or spinner…"

The meeting went on for a while after that, and was adjourned some time later. It had gone for several hours, but not a single decision of any sort had been made the entire time. As I watched the generals each scamper off, either to their dens or on some other errand, and as King Bloodsheen lumbered off in the direction of his cave, flanked by the two attendants, I scowled. Who did Rendflesh think he was? I was a rager! I deserved better treatment!

Still scowling, I turned and began the long journey home.

Several hours later, as I was sitting on a rock by the lake, the lapping of the water distantly echoing off of the far shore, my thoughts returned to Rendflesh. Why had he wanted to make me look foolish? Was he afraid that I would try to usurp his position?

If so, his fears were irrational. I had no interest in being the leader of the military.

I aspired to be king.

Who was Bloodsheen, anyways? Some old fool who, in his younger days, had been a handsome warrior, and was now a good-for-nothing slugabed? His day was over. That much was clear.

Of course, nobody would follow me quite yet. I was barely a year old. I would have to wait, bide my time, fight in many battles, gain experience and a reputation, get a chance to prove myself.

My chance came even sooner than I thought.

No more than four days after the council of war met, a lone rat who was hunting in the Dead Land stumbled across the bodies of three guards, rats who had set off the day before to join a patrol in the spinners' land. There was little left of them, merely empty husks. They had been drained by spinners and abandoned.

The rat brought the news home with him, and in a matter of hours the entire gnawer nation knew of the murders. The rats were in an uproar. Anger spread through the caverns like a wave. The stone walls rang with Tree of Transmission messages, questions, rumors, updates.

Immediately, King Bloodsheen's administration sent out a response, which was passed far and wide through the Tree networks, taken up by every competent transmitter. Standing in my cave, I listened to it being passed again and again. _Rumors of dead confirmed. Permission for combat granted. All military personnel are to gather in Assembly Cavern at once._

It was official now. We were going to war.


	9. Spinner's End

Okay. First thing's first. Sorry for the wait. I've just had so much to do. The normal school busywork, and being sick (I just can't write when I'm sick, especially not a battle scene). And this was a hard chapter to write. It's by far the longest yet. I had a bit of writer's block, and so I had to redo parts of it to get it to a level where I could feel comfortable with my writing.

And before I forget, thank you, thank you, _thank you_to all the wonderful people who have taken the time to read and review this. Thank you to Seraphania, ILikeAres, Alexandrite Celestea, oh look a flying bunny, ripred's pup, and the several anonymous reviewers. Your support means so much to me.

And now that that mushy part's done with, go ahead and read. And congratulations to those of you who get the Harry Potter reference in the chapter title.

* * *

The Assembly Cavern was a gigantic, well-lit cave, large enough to house the entirety of the gnawer army. By the time I arrived there, shortly after receiving the message, the great pendulum of the military had already swung into action. The place resembled an upturned beehive, with gnawers milling about, running back and forth frantically, shouting out commands to other rats on the opposite side of the cavern.

Where was I supposed to go? Who should I report to? I was in General Coilthroat's regiment, but where were they assembling? Was I supposed to be with Coilthroat at all? Should I seek out High General Rendflesh and ask him? My status as a rager threw even the basics into uncertainty.

I began to edge through the crowd. Occupied with their own immediate concerns, nobody gave me a second glance. I had no idea where I was heading, or where I was meant to be. I had to find someone who was in charge, someone who-

A rat detached himself from the crowd and dashed toward me. Smiter. He was panting, foaming at the mouth slightly. "Ripred!" he gasped. "Thank goodness I found you. I've been searching everywhere. You'll never believe what they're asking of you. You're supposed to lead your own regiment!"

My heart leapt into my throat, and I repressed a gasp. "M-my own-who arranged for that?"

"General Rendflesh," said Smiter. "What the old fool's playing at, I don't know. You've never even fought in a battle before, let alone received proper instruction on how to control a group."

To me, it was obvious what Rendflesh was playing at. He planned to make me look like a fool, an incompetent phony not even capable of handling a troop of soldiers. He wanted to soil my reputation before it was even made, and perhaps, if he was lucky, even kill me… although I doubted it. After months of training, I had too much confidence in my prowess in battle.

"I cleared my throat. "All right, then," I said with unreasonable calm. "Where is this troop I'm supposed to lead?"

"I don't know," said Smiter. "Rendflesh wanted you to report to him. He's on the other side of the cavern, over in that direction." Smiter waved a claw toward a point on the far side of the cave.

"Guess I'd better go," I said.

I started to leave, but I had just turned my back when I heard Smiter say, "Run like the river, Ripred."

"Oh, uh, you too," I stammered, Smiter's use of the traditional gnawer farewell taking my completely by surprise. I scampered off into the crowd before Smiter could say anything else, embarrassed but at the same time deeply glad to know that at least one rat in this mess was looking out for me.

Rendflesh was standing near one of the cavern walls in a tightly-knit group of soldiers, several of which I recognized from the war council. A rough map had been carved into the wall, and the generals seemed to be busy planning out the attack, pointing and gesticulating with their sharpened claws. As I tentatively approached, Rendflesh turned his unfriendly gaze toward me.

"Ripred," he said coldly. "And what might _you_ be doing here?"

"I believe you sent for me, General," I replied, the slightest hint of sarcasm present in my voice.

"Yes, yes, of course," he snapped. "I was hoping Smiter would get word to you. Very unreliable, that one is. Anyway, you'll be commanding the Fifteenth Regiment, a group fifty strong, which will attack from the caverns below soon after the initial wave." He turned to the map carved into the wall. "While the bulk of our forces, led by myself and Lacktalon, will move into the central cavern-" here he indicated a large, oval-shaped blob that represented the spinners' city- "from there, in a full frontal assault-" he indicated the area directly above the oval- "two small groups will attack from the other end, effectively trapping the spinners, and forcing them to fight while surrounded. The first group, led by Fraybalk, will move in from the left-" he waved his claw in the direction left of the oval- "while the second, commanded by yourself, will attack upward from the caves below." He traced out a pattern in the caverns below the oval, showing me where to wait. "Your attack will not commence immediately. Lie in wait until you hear the sounds of battle from above. Is that clear?"

"As clear as it gets. So where's my troop?"

I expected Rendflesh to roar at me for my insolence, but his response, surprisingly, was indeed calm. "The Fifteenth Regiment is gathering over there." He pointed across the cave, to where a knot of soldiers was indeed assembling. "They're quite a handful, but I'm sure you'll have no trouble at all keeping them under control." Rendflesh and a few of the other generals laughed unpleasantly. These, I realized, must be his pack of supporters, the ones eager to see me self-destruct. I made mental not of each. I would have to watch out for them.

I pushed my way back across the cavern, to where the Fifteenth Regiment was waiting. My stomach was churning, but I couldn't suppress a feeling of glowing pride, of anticipation that was building up inside me. I was truly a soldier now, marching off to battle at the head of a troop of rats. Perhaps today would be the day that my childish dreams of glory were fulfilled.

Any eagerness vanished the moment I got my first good look at the Fifteenth Regiment. Each soldier in the troop was to an ordinary rat what one would be to a nibbler; long, brutish, and powerful. Many flaunted scars of battle: absent eyes or ears or even paws, foreshortened tails, not to mention the countless scars and other flaws in their coats. Even with my rager abilities, I suddenly felt feeble, untested, weak. Not even Rendflesh could lead these monsters anywhere.

That mongrel! If I survived this war I would flay him alive and leave him for the sea serpents in the Tankard!

I cleared my throat and tried to suppress the quaver in my voice. "Attention, troops! I am General Ripred, and I will be your commander for the duration of this battle. Form ranks!" I wasn't officially a general yet, but of course it was necessary to say that, lest I lose what little respect I might have.

The rats traded glances. "Who's he?" asked one blankly.

"I don't have a clue," another responded.

One rat gave a mournful sigh. "Oh, you don't think they actually sent this runt to be our general, do you?"

"If so, he's in for a few nasty surprises," growled another.

"Wait a minute!" exclaimed one rat. "Isn't he the one that claims to be a rager? Rip-something-or-other."

"Yeah, that's him, all right."

"Ha! Some rager."

"Silence!" I barked in my best general's voice. "You will not defy my authority. Form ranks!"

"Authority?" inquired one. "What authority? Bet you aren't even a general yet. You're just saying that so you won't lose what little authority you have."

"I say we teach him who really has the authority around here!" snarled a soldier who had several claws missing from his left front paw.

Moving as one, the pack stepped forward menacingly.

"Enough!" My command came out as a helpless plea, high-pitched and imploring. "There will be no fighting in the ranks! I am your general!"

Several rats laughed derisively.

"Well, general," sneered the rat with the missing claws. "We say it's past time your short military career came to an end."

That was it for me. No more Mr. Nice Guy. No more open-ended pleading for control. If these rats wanted a fight, then a fight they would get.

My tail whipped out and crashed into the muzzle of the soldier with the missing claws. Had he seen it coming, he would have been able to stand his ground. Instead, he gave a squeal of surprise, and tumbled head over heels into the rest of the regiment, knocking several down. Rats from all over the cave turned to stare. As he lay there on his back, legs twitching, resembling an upturned crawler, I strode over and slapped him again. I grinned with satisfaction as his eyes bugged out in shock and outrage.

Returning to my place at the front, I said, in as nonchalant a tone as I could muster, "There will be no more insubordination from any of you. Now, form ranks."

Obediently, the soldiers arranged themselves into the familiar rows and columns, although with much unnecessary grumbling and stepping on each others' tails.

"Good," I growled approvingly, when the rats were still. Briefly, I outlined to them the basic plan of attack (the basics being all that I really knew) and led the Fifteenth Regiment to its place in the greater military, which was beginning to take shape in the cavern.

It was an impressive vision, all right. If watching General Coilthroat's troop form rows and files had been intimidating, then seeing the military force for the entire gnawer nation, a massive horde which, at the time, was nearly two thousand strong, (in times of emergency, every able-bodied male rat is automatically a soldier) was enough to strike terror into the hearts of the bravest. We filled the cavern from wall to wall, rat after rat after rat, neat, perfect columns that stretched endlessly, the very picture of discipline and lethalness.

King Bloodsheen, it seemed, could not be bothered to address his army before it left for war, but General Rendflesh did make an appearance. As we stood there, waiting dumbly in our rows, the general stepped out onto a natural stone ledge fifty feet or so above our heads and stood, facing the army.

"My fellow soldiers," Rendflesh began, his words slow and mournful and yet at the same time full of energy. "Today is the day. This is the day when we pay back the spinners for so many years of manipulation and terror-mongering.

"For time immemorial, the spinners have committed unspeakable atrocities against the gnawers and the Underland. They have scoured our rivers of fish, drunk our pups, and, worst of all, they have gone so far as to ally themselves with monsters such as the killers and the treacherous fliers. For years, we have known that a solution must be found to the spinner dilemma, but for all this time we have accepted their ways. Why, do you ask?

Rendflesh's voice was gaining momentum now, becoming more ferocious with each word. "The answer is simple. The spinners make silk. They make silk, and that is valuable, and they know it, and as a result they hold it above our heads, refusing to trade with us unless we give in to every one of their petty demands. We have given up miles of caverns to the spinners, but that is not enough. We have given up several of our great rivers, and the fish that reside in them, but that is still not enough. And now they ask us to remove our patrols from their land, knowing that if we do we will be allowing treacherous fliers to have free reign over the area. Enough, I say! We shall no longer cave in to the whims of an inferior race. Today is the day we shall stand and fight!"

Caught up in the speech, the soldiers all began to yell, calling for the death of the spinners, the ravaging of the Underland of any species who had ever allied themselves with the spinners (except, of course, for us). Soon a chant began to break out. "Stand and fight! Stand and fight! Stand and fight!"

Rendflesh allowed the chant to run its course for several minutes, and then calmly held up a paw. Instantly the noise drained from the cavern. "The time is now, my comrades. Now is the time when we shall teach the spinners a hard lesson about which is the superior race. Now is the time for retribution. The atrocities of the spinner nation shall be paid for by a river of blood!"

A savage cry went up from the warriors assembled below.

Rendflesh extended his foreleg, pointing with his claws at the far side of the cavern, where the exit was situated. "Forward!" he commanded, his voice resounding to the farthest reaches of the cavern.

Rhythmically, robotically, the words of the general still ringing in our ears, the entire army turned and headed for the exit.

…

The march to the spinners' lands was long and arduous. Well, perhaps _march_ is the wrong word for it. As soon as we left the Assembly Cavern, any formation the army held had soon dissolved into a disorderly crowd of rats, moving at a speed somewhere between a trot and a gallop.

At first the soldiers were carefree, almost jovial, as if we were marching off to a picnic instead of a battle from which some of us would not come back alive. The soldiers practically skipped along, chatting with each other, laughing. Whenever we forded a river, the soldiers would dip their paws into the rushing current and come up with fish. I avoided fishing (after all, I doubted I would be able to hold anything I ate down), but at one river, I did hastily gobble up a couple of shrimp.

As the march wore on, the general mood became more subdued. Perhaps this was simply due to weariness. After all, we had been marching for hours, through caverns, up cliffs, across rivers and lakes, down into valleys. We'd encountered many of the Underland's creatures. One cave, with a moss-covered floor, had been teeming with dozens of slimers, moving back and forth at obstinately slow speeds while feeding on the moss, retracting into their shells as we passed. Nobody even bothered to eat any of the foul-tasting creatures, and we had soon left them far behind.

After several hours of marching, the lust for battle that had been induced by Rendflesh's speech was almost completely gone. We trudged through the caverns, our tails dragging, our ears flat against our heads. Every time I tripped over a stone or stubbed my toe on one, I snarled in frustration. Every time I had to detour around a stalagmite, I scowled. What was the point in this entire stupid war? How would our trek across half the Underland help the situation? It was all pointless.

Onward I walked, occasionally barking out a hoarse order to the Regiment Fifteen soldiers, reminding them to stay in ranks, which of course was futile while on the move, especially in the Underland. And so, finally, when the legion came to a halt deep within the spinners' lands, we had degenerated into a bizarre amoeba shape, most undignified for an army.

Rendflesh, standing up at the front with another general, waved his paws for attention, and began to speak in a tone so softly that even those in the front rows had to strain their ears to hear him. "Comrades in battle, we now approach our destination. We must proceed from here with utmost caution. It is likely we shall encounter spinner guards, and be forced to dispose of them. Also, it is most certain that the spinners have some knowledge of our nation's intent to battle, but they likely do not yet know of our approach. Fraybalk, Ripred, if you would be so kind as to come to the front…" I stood up, at the back of the crowd, and unsteadily elbowed my way forward. Another rat, farther off to the right and closer to the front, had also risen at the general's command.

I entered a three-rat huddle with Fraybalk and Rendflesh. "Fraybalk," murmured General Rendflesh authoritatively, "You know what to do, which tunnels to take. Proceed with your regiment. Ripred, you and your troop will be exiting through _that_ tunnel _there."_He pointed to a crack in the wall to our left. "Walk along the corridor for about seventy paces, turn right, go down the corkscrew, turn left, and wait in the cavern of crystals. After you hear the sounds of battle, you shall exit through the opposite tunnel, and you should find yourself in the midst of the battle. And one more thing…" Rendflesh turned his beady eyes on me. "Run like the river, young rager."

It was the same parting phrase that Smiter had used earlier, but there was none of the warmth in it. As I walked off, I could hear Rendflesh smirking to himself. My shoulders shook with rage, and it took every bit of willpower contained in me not to turn around and give Rendflesh just what he deserved.

I stormed back to Regiment Fifteen, and waved my paw impatiently at them, beckoning for them to follow me. Still fuming, I marched straight into the tunnel, the regiment in tow (ah, how good it felt for somebody else to be trotting in my wake, for a change), almost forgetting to count seventy paces before turning. Indeed, this slight confusion, coupled with my fury, was one of the reasons that I did not notice the spinner's web until I turned the corner and marched straight into it.

If there had been a spinner guarding the web, I would have been killed immediately for my carelessness. Even without a spinner, I might have floundered for hours until I starved or was caught, had it not been for the other rats, two of which immediately rushed forward and severed the webs, painfully freeing me.

"So they're expecting us," I said once I had cleared the last of the cobwebs from my face. "They didn't know for sure we'd be taking this tunnel, or they'd have posted guards here, or some more practical defense than a few webs. Still, they know that our army's approaching, even if the details remain uncertain to them. From now on, we'll have to move quietly, making no unnecessary…"

I trailed off, glaring in annoyance at the soldier from before, with the missing claws. Currently he was doubled over with mirth. "The great rager turns a corner and walks straight into a web!" he howled.

"Well," I told the clawless soldier, "Since you seem so concerned about my well-being, you can walk ahead of the troop and clear the way for the rest of us."

The clawless rat glared at me hatefully, but even he wouldn't dare disobey a direct order from a general while on the brink of a battle. He trudged to the front and began to, with erratic slashes of his claws and tail, slowly plow a path through the cobwebs.

I soon realized that the clawless rat was cutting the path far too slowly to be of any efficiency. He would have to have assistance, even if it took away some of the fun. "You help him," I instructed another soldier. "And you, and you."

So the soldiers marched ahead, cutting a path in the gooey threads, with me and the rest of the regiment following close behind. After several minutes of descending through a corkscrew tunnel, the webs began to thin out, and finally vanished entirely. The soldiers I had assigned to clear the way, however, were complete messes, covered all over with trails of sticky webs, their fur matted and ragged. Had there been a light, they would have sparkled.

I turned left, as per Rendflesh's instructions, and led the pack along a tunnel that descended even farther into the earth. After several minutes' swift marching, we found ourselves in a tall cavern studded with crystals; priceless diamonds and the like. They would have shimmered like stars with a thousand rainbows, had there been light. Any human treasure hunter would have gone insane with glee in this cave of fortune miles below the surface.

One of the soldiers kicked a priceless gem across the cave, where it hit a stalagmite and shattered, tinkling, into a million tiny shards. "Silence!" I snapped. "Do you want them to hear you?"

"I can't say that I care," he growled back. He had been one of the soldiers to clear the webs. Globs and strands of goo dripped from his snout and tail. His whiskers were pressed flat against his face. "We're supposed to attack, aren't we?"

"Not yet! We wait until the battle begins."

This did nothing to silence the soggy warrior. He and his companions began grumbling about how this was a pointless mission, led by an inept fool who claimed to be a rager, and how if they didn't end up all dying they'd be shamed forever to have been sent on such a pointless mission. Return to top.

While the others were thus occupied, I took the opportunity to do a quick recon of the cave. It was largish, with towering walls of firm granite, except where they were studded with diamonds. A tiny trickle of water ran through the center of the cave, barely enough to dampen my ankles. On the opposite side of the cave there was an opening to a tunnel that led upward into, from what I could tell by the faint echolocation pulses that returned to me, a large space full of movement. The movement was not as frantic as it would have been in an attack, and there was very little sound. I vaguely recalled hearing that the spinners disliked loud noise.

Minutes passed, and still there was no sign of an attack. Where _was_ that army? I began to pace back and forth, like a caged animal, while the soldiers redoubled their griping.

Suddenly, without any warning, a creature scuttled into the cavern from the tunnel opposite. I recognized it as a spinner, with its eight legs and eyes, its enormous backside, and the pair of curved mandibles, which began to click with alarm as soon as the spinner sensed us.

Immediately, my rager self went into action. I leapt across the cavern in a single bound and landed on top of the spinner. Without hesitating, I dug my claws deeply into its flesh, pushing past its rough exoskeleton, causing a fountain of blood to spurt out. The spinner struggled weakly for a moment, and then it was still.

Heart pounding, I released the spinner. It rolled over in a ball, legs folded in against its chest. Slowly, shakily, I sat back and surveyed the kill. The blood… the sour, alien spinner blood that smelled differently from gnawer blood or that of any other mammal… it was only now that I realized how immense my rager powers were, how little control I had over myself.

None of the other rats had even had time to move. I could sense them staring with awe, and grinned triumphantly. No more would I be the "pup who claims to be a rager," at least not to them.

"Well," I grunted, breaking the awkward silence, "I hope the army gets a move on it. If they wait for much longer to attack, that spinner will be missed."

As it turned out, we didn't have much longer to wait. A few minutes later, as I was washing my claws free of blood in the stream, there came from above the unmistakable sounds of a military assault. Harsh cries of rats mixed with the strange alarm strums of the spinners, and the faint scent of blood that was even now beginning to fill the air. The first casualties…

"Go," I ordered the soldiers, quite unnecessarily. They had begun to press forward in a pack, and the first had already reached the tunnel mouth and were starting to ascend. I galloped after them, the last in the pack, desperately not wanting to be left behind. Up the tunnel I went, blood coursing through my veins, moving as if in a dream, blindly following the path, until I was bursting through the remnants of a web that had once blocked the tunnel, already torn wide open by the other rats, shooting out into the air, landing on the floor of the great cavern, my senses automatically heightened, my body tensing for an attack.

I sensed a shape shooting down towards me from my right flank. My tail connected, and the spinner was repelled mid-leap. Almost immediately, a second shape dropped from a web far above, hanging by a thread, legs raised. When the spinner was directly above me, I slashed at him blindly, tearing off several legs and opening the length of his belly. And then I was being assailed on all sides, spinners leaping, scuttling, attempting to snag me with loops of thread.

I hopped blindly from foot to foot, leaping back and forth, spinning, never pausing to catch my breath, barely pausing to think. In training, I had spent all my time practicing against other gnawers. Compared to them, the unfamiliar fighting style of the spinners seemed rough, irregular, and unpredictable. I had no idea of where I was, other than my immediate surroundings. The rest of Regiment Fifteen was fighting nearby, but I was too occupied to acknowledge them, let alone give them an order. They would have to fend for themselves for the time being.

Surrounded by spinners, I spun, covering every side of me, slashing at spinner, web, and anything that dared come within reach of my menacing claws. Endless clouds of spinners leapt at me, and I sent them flying right back. I felt both vulnerable and… _invincible._ I was a power on the battlefield to be reckoned with, an army in and of myself. I could kill with a single slice of my claws. I could kill!

An ugly laugh escaped me as I sent yet another spinner corpse flying across the cavern. It crashed through several webs before sticking in one, bouncing slightly. No longer was I helpless. No longer was I a follower, a pup. I was a rager now, doing what I had been meant to be.

My limbs were working reflexively, seemingly all on their own. I couldn't have stopped moving if I'd tried. With some part of me, I could feel my body wearing down, my energy slowly being depleted, but I kept fighting.

Time passed. I could sense changes happening on the battlefield around me, the tide of the battle turning. Whether the changes were good or not, I could not say. I delved deeper into my rager self that I ever had before. As so often happened when I fought, it seemed as if I had been fighting for all of eternity, as if I had no other identity than as a fighter, as if everything else in life was a silly dream.

I killed spiders, many spiders. The ground was covered with their squashed corpses; their blood formed a lake around me. Perhaps I also killed a few rats. To this day I'm not sure. It was easy. During that battle, I was solely a killer.

While I was engaged with two other spinners, a third, smaller one scuttled up behind me, mandibles wide open with anticipation. I knocked the two flying with a swipe of my tail, and turned to deal with the third. Just as I was plunging my claws downward in a clean stab that was sure to kill the spinner, another, much larger spinner materialized, seemingly out of nowhere.

I whipped around again. The huge figure of the spinner was bearing down on me, an enormous blob, much larger than me, larger even than Tpacchslatskillt had been, that day at the river with Father a million years ago. It snapped, and I dodged backward just in time. The mandibles, like a great pair of boulders, closed less that an inch from my snout. The smaller spinner I had been fighting took the opportunity to leap onto my back, but before it could sink its fangs into me I fell to the floor and rolled over, crushing the smaller spinner under my body. While a move of similar proportions by a spinner would have killed any rat, this spinner miraculously survived, looking only slightly flattened.

Before I could finish off the spinner, the larger one came scuttling forward furiously. Positioning myself to attack, I felt a thread snag my back. I tore the thread free, and, growling, turned to see that another spinner had joined the fray. I snapped at it, and it withdrew milliseconds before my jaw closed.

I was assailed from my left by two more, larger spinners. I sent one flying, but before I could attend to the other I felt my tail snagged, only whipping it free an instant before it could be severed. It was becoming apparent that the spinners, intent on eliminating me and the treat my rager side posed them, were trying to overwhelm me with sheer numbers.

I began to spin, slashing wildly. Faster and faster I spun, my claws raking at anything within striking distance. The spinners were beginning to hesitate, and I roared with triumph.

One spinner, however, had kept his wits about him. He sent a line of thread shooting through the air at me, and it stuck fast to my stomach. I ignored it and kept spinning, but in doing so I merely wrapped the thread around me, again and again, loop after loop, neatly tying myself up in a swaddled bundle. Entangled, I fell to the ground, blindly clawing at the shroud of silk.

Mandibles snapping, the spinner pack converged on my struggling body. I went wild, clawing at my midsection with blind terror and desperation, opening several stinging wounds in my own stomach. But no, I would not free myself in time… the spinners would kill me first…

An unfamiliar rat darted out of the fray. He somersaulted above the spinners, dodging their snapping fangs, and landed beside me. With a single smooth claw movement, he ripped away most of the threads binding me. Then, without a word, he bounded back into the thick of the battle and was lost from scent.

Although I was free of the thread, the spinner pack still surrounded me on all sides. I frantically searched for a way out, but there was not a single gap in the wall of spinners attacking me, which by this time had swelled to several dozen.

I found myself on the ground, looking up at the enormous spinner. He had pushed to the front of the crowd and was bending down, mandibles opening wide, eager to kill and eat me. Well, not eat me, I knew that much. First he would use his venom to paralyze and kill me, and then he'd turn my insides to liquid and drink them. Spinner venom had varying degrees of potency, but given this particular spinner's size it was a safe bet that once his fangs pierced my skin I would be doomed.

I spotted a gap, between the giant spinner's legs and the ground. The gap was rapidly closing, as the spinner leaned farther forward. Without thinking, I scuttled forward, shooting out from under the spinner as his mandibles closed on stone with a hideous scraping sound.

Clicking and strumming, the entire horde of spinners started towards me. I backed away nervously, not even checking the area with echolocation. As a result, I backed right into a web. Roaring, I ripped myself free, barely noticing the shrieking pain, and dashed forward, splashing through puddles of blood. The spinners were not prepared for the assault, and several fell before my flashing teeth and talons. The rest of the pack scattered in all directions.

I stood in the middle of the battlefield, spinner corpses surrounding me on all sides. I reared up onto my hind legs and roared triumphantly, my rager's battle cry echoing through the cave. I was the victor, the unopposed master of the battlefield! Who would dare challenge me? Nobody!

Well, there was one…

The small spinner from earlier dropped from above on a thread. I sensed him coming, but didn't move fast enough. The creature landed on my head, and I bucked wildly in an attempt to throw it off. The spinner held on, but my attempts kept it from getting a grip with its deadly mandibles.

While I was thus engaged, the first spinner's partner, the enormous one, lunged at me from behind a nearby web. I dodged, throwing off the first spinner in the process. Safe, for the moment. I turned to gallop to more convenient ground, and walked straight into a wall of webs.

Fortunately the webs were not the sticky kind, so I did not become entrapped. I bounced off of them, reeling with shock and confusion. Where had the wall come from? It hadn't been here earlier! Indeed, it was still rising, spiraling upward with the aid of a dozen or more spinners, nearing twenty feet in height.

I turned to run the other way, but saw with dismay that another wall was quickly forming. In fact, web-walls were growing up on every side, entrapping me within a funnel of silk.

Futilely, I rammed myself against the nearest wall of silk. It did nothing. The webs might as well have been made of stone.

I was trapped. If the spinners didn't kill me at once, they'd keep me a prisoner in their pits, until-

I clenched my teeth. No. There was still a way out. I couldn't break my way through the wall, but perhaps if I climbed fast enough….

Snarling, I leapt forward and slammed into the wall, gripping it with my teeth, my claws, anything. I began to climb recklessly, achieving greater speeds than some rats managed on the ground, and I was getting closer, closer, higher, but it was no use, I could sense the spinners at the top rushing to meet me, and I would be killed, killed, killed…

No, I wouldn't. Not today. Being ensnared so easily was for ordinary soldiers. Ragers were made of sterner stuff. I galloped up the wall, sending several spinners flying like skittles, and I reached the top. For a moment, I was precariously balanced on the funnel's edge, but I sensed myself tipping, and falling forward…

I didn't even have time to right myself. Instead of landing on the ground, I fell into another web, bounced slightly, and came to a standstill. The spinners were close behind. I could sense them approaching, the eagerly strumming crowd pouring onto the web-wall.

I was not stuck, and I was not injured. There was no excuse for me not to move. I righted myself and slowly backed along the thread, preparing to leap to the ground. Finally, the web gave way, only for me to find myself at one end of a sturdy silk bridge which spanned the cavern for several hundred feet. I turned to the edge, preparing for the jump, only to see something that stopped my heart.

From a web not far below dangled four silk lines. At the bottom of each was a shape, each one hideously, disgustingly familiar. The four shapes were mostly empty husks, with only an occasional patch of fur to identify them as the gnawers they had once been.

Spasms of fear coursed through my gut. I had, of course, known that rats were getting killed all around me in the battle. But I had been so inattentive, so absorbed in the fight, that this was the first evidence I had seen of gnawer casualties. Those four dangling rats were dead. They were dead, just like Father, just like all the spinners I had killed.

I panicked. I had no thoughts for evading the oncoming wave of spinners. All I could think was, _It's going to be me! It's going to be me!_I would be the next one killed. My life would end, and I would join those four husks below. I was powerless to stop it. Desperately, I called upon my rager reserves, but they had deserted me at my time of need. I was just a young, largely inexperienced rat, cornered in the thick of a battle. I was out of my depth.

I could only watch helplessly as the spinners poured onto the bridge, mandibles setting up a chorus of clicking. I could only struggle vainly as the huge spinner leapt forward and pinned me beneath three of his segmented legs.

The spinner opened his mandibles and lowered his head until it was inches from my face. Eight dark eyes gleamed with menace.

I was gasping for air, stricken with terror. I was going to die. My short life would come to an end. The venom would enter my blood, paralyzing me, and the spinner would drink my insides. But it would be all right. Everything would be all right. I would see Father again… slowly, my breathing calmed. I smiled one last time.

And the spinner's fangs pierced my neck.


	10. Venom

Okay, I'll admit it. I stretched the writing of this chapter out, so as to prolong the cliffhanger and tourture you all longer. Sorry, but it was just too good a cliffhanger to let go to waste by posting this chapter after just two days. I had to let the dramatic tension build up.

Taking my time was good also because it gave me a chance to get my writing pretty much where I wanted it. In retrospect, I'm glad I did. So... go ahead and read. Or don't. You've already clicked on the page, so it counts as a "hit" under Reader Traffic whether you read on or not.

* * *

I was saved by luck, pure luck. As the giant spinner's fangs closed on my neck and began to pump their deadly poison into me, I chose the moment to spasm with fear, dislodging the fangs and momentarily freeing myself. The spinner strummed in annoyance and snapped his great mandibles shut on my neck again, but the slight delay had given me enough time to leap back several feet, and the mandibles buried themselves vainly in the bridge.

I heaved myself to my feet, readying myself for the next attack. I was turning my head wildly, sensing for attackers, when the small dose of venom that I had received hit me with its full force. My head began to swim as the world reeled around me, scents coming from all directions at once, my echolocation image distorted and surreal. I could feel the drops of venom burning as they worked their way from my neck, through my veins, down to my heart, and then out to each of my limbs and the tip of my tail.

As if from far away, I could vaguely sense the horde of spinners again converging on my fallen body. They were squabbling, I think, arguing about which one would get to drink me. I lay there dazed, eyes glazed over, forgetting how to move my limbs, or why for some reason I felt the urge to get moving, to move, move, move now!

With a massive effort, I rolled over onto my side. The spinners, of course, saw that I was not at all dead, and their argument ceased as if a switch had been pulled. The pack was leaning in toward me… I could see them moving in slow motion…

Summoning every last reserve of strength, I rolled over again, and tumbled right off the bridge. I could feel myself falling, tearing through webs in my descent, not even having the chance to right myself before I smashed solidly into the ground.

The pain shot through me, rousing me to partial consciousness. I knew I had to move, to leave. I was in no condition to fight. I would have to find some hole to hide in, someplace where I could whether the battle. Unless the injection of venom killed me first. It was a vain hope, all right. But it was all the hope I had.

Legs trembling, I got to all fours. Even this small effort threatened to knock me out. The world wavered around me, and I grasped consciousness by a thread. The bruises that covered my body from falling screamed with needle-sharp pain. As best as I could tell, nothing was broken, luckily. The last thing I needed right now was an energy-sapping fracture.

A rushing around me alerted me to the approach of the pack of spinners. My weak echolocation at first registered them only as blurs, but as they came closer their outlines became more defined. Yes, there at the front were the large spinner and its smaller counterpart. I was aware of the triumphant clicks and strums as they surrounded me. The strums sounded like claws on slate, and I hunched into a ball.

I could feel myself being lifted, and felt a tickle. Nothing to worry about. The spinners were wrapping me up in their warm, cozy webs. They would soon take me off to where my siblings were laying, and perhaps Mother would sing us a little song as we drifted off to sleep…

Mother! A rush of adrenaline shot through me. I came to life, thrashing in the spinners' grip. My back claws were shredding the threads that were binding me, flailing, cutting through web and spinner and air. My tail was wildly whipping, knocking spinners flying and skittering across the cave. One spinner's mandibles closed on my tail, but before they could sever it I pulled the tail free, skinning the length of it. After that, blood splattered whenever I moved my tail.

The spinners surrounded me, trying to pin me down, but I was thrashing too wildly. I was afraid, so deeply afraid of what would happen if the spinners got to me. I would die. My consciousness would be drained, and all I'd ever known and loved would be gone. I would be a sack of lifeless flesh, and not even that after the spinners drank me. I couldn't let myself die! I couldn't!

I gave a roar of rage, lined with fear. The spinners hesitated, their iron grip slackening somewhat. Not wasting a second, I seized the moment to slash wildly with my claws. I knocked over a spinner, and another. And I was on my feet, forcing a path through the tight crowd, pushing my way to freedom!

The spinners followed, hurrying to catch up. I sliced at an oncoming foe, and it fell to the ground, either dead or badly injured. One down, but there were so many more, such vast, endless numbers…

I could feel my rager state coming on, fragmented and shaky but still laced with its deadly force. Roaring, I leapt at the spinner crowd. Several died instantly, but that was not enough… never enough…

Occasionally, flashes of the battle around me registered with my brain. There seemed to be fewer spinners and more gnawers than when the battle had begun. The rats seemed oblivious to my distress. Occasionally one would assault the crowd of spinners, killing a few and distracting them enough to give me a temporary advantage, but as a whole the gnawer army seemed fine with me taking on a whole horde. Couldn't anyone see that I was floundering, slowly being forced back? That even if I was not overwhelmed soon, the venom would take me?

Always during that timeless fight, the venom eating away at my innards, slowly sapping my reserves of strength. I was dying a lot slower than I would have if the spinner had pumped a full dose of venom into me, but I was dying nevertheless. It ate at my edges, like a firew that had not properly caught but instead blackened and smoldered before bursting into full flame. It attacked me almost like a living creature, replacing my blood with liquid fire. My body was putting up its defense, a microcosm of the larger battle raging outside, but the venom was slowly gaining ground, taking control. I was dying... dying… pain… the world shattering around me…

Forced against a wall… fighting cornered… a spinner cutting through my meager defenses, darting forward and taking a chunk out of my stomach… blood everywhere… blood… pain… screaming at the spinners, a loud, high-pitched scream… why were they doing this? Why were they fighting me? It was insane. There could be no motive for it. There had been a motive… long ago… in the heat of battle, I tried to recall it, but the venom had entered my brain, and my memories were swirling in disarray.

It registered in the depths of my brain that I would soon be dead. The venom was killing me. I couldn't fight any longer. I was at the end of my rope. I would have to rest, not here on the battlefield in the midst of the endless chaos, but somewhere else. Somewhere safe, some tucked-away niche where the spinners couldn't get at me. I could wait out the battle there, wait for some gnawer to find me. I would be safe. I would still have the venom to deal with, but it would do its cruel job more slowly if I could rest.

A vision of the crystal cavern, the one which we'd attacked from, swam into my head. The cavern was peaceful, quiet, tucked away from the battle. If I could somehow get there… wait until the battle was over and hope that someone found me… It was my last, desperate hope.

It registered that the spinner attack directed at me was lessening. I got a faint impression of a small party of soldiers cutting into the pack of spinners from their left flank. The spinners had turned to deal with them, momentarily forgetting me.

I saw an opening and bounded away, stumbled and fell, scrambled to my feet again. Then I was scurrying through the battlefield, passing hordes of gnawers and spinners ruthlessly murdering each other, unable to tell, in my befuddled state, which way the battle was turning… I kept close to the ground, flattening myself out as much as possible as I slunk along so as to make myself harder to echolocate. Several times I was nearly trampled by the packs of battling creatures. I had no idea where I was, how far I was from the crystal cave. I just kept going, blindly feeling my way through the fray, dodging the threads that came sailing toward me. I could feel myself scattering globs of half-congealed blood everywhere. Only a little farther, I told myself. Only a little farther and you can rest. You can rest forever and ever if you want. Just keep going.

I was dragging myself now, using all of my strength and will to keep going. The venom was working harder than ever at dissolving me. Had a spinner stumbled upon me, they probably would have been able to drink me as I was, without liquidizing me. I doubted I was even recognizable as a rat now.

A wall loomed up before me. One of the cavern walls. It could have been any one. By now, my sense of direction was so muddled that I could have been at the Waterway without knowing it. The wall… dead end… no going back…

Farther off to the right, I registered static. A blank space of nothing where there should have been wall… an opening… an opening! I was off again, squelching like a slimer, wriggling like a twister, putting every bit of my soul into movement. And I _was_ moving, inch by inch, claws scraping the stone, slower than a glacier… and I had reached the safety of the tunnel, walls arching above me, the sounds of the battle comfortably behind me instead of all around.

I made it maybe ten yards down the tunnel before collapsing in an exhausted heap. I was done. I had used my last vestige of strength. The smoldering venom was finally bursting into flame inside me. I was dying now, but even that seemed surreal. My brain was ineffective. I lay motionless, slumped on the floor. Had someone poured a bucket of water on me then, I probably would have spread out in a puddle.

I could sense the battle behind me. The roars and strums, the scent of blood hanging like fog heavily in the air, on and on, endless minute after endless minute… and finally, although the taint of blood remained as strong as ever, the noise that was reaching my weak ears began to subside. I was fading fast now. My hearing was dissipating, and if someone didn't find me, I would surely expire soon.

The movement behind me seemed to be lessening, too. Instead of the wild frenzy of battle, I sensed a slower, calmer progress. Both sides seemed to be retreating, falling back. It was nothing. A slight lull in the battle, no more. Soon, the flurrying flickers of war would start up again, whipping the battlefield into mulch, and for what? Nothing… nothing… for the first time, I saw how useless, how ineffective the battle was.

Yes, it had definitely quieted down back there. The battle had ceased, although for what reason I could not guess, and why it had not started up again at once puzzled me.

I heard movement behind me. Not the light, traipsing tap of spinner feet. Something heavier. Some larger, more fearsome enemy. They were growing ever nearer. I could smell them as they circled around me, their forms looming, three… rats. Yes. They were rats, setting up a babble of talking as they surveyed my defenseless body, obviously readying themselves for the kill. I knew I had to fight them, but my head was swimming, and the very thought of movement drove me even closer to death.

I was being picked up and carried, supported by alien paws, their very touch prickling me with irritation. I wanted to fight, to force the rats to disperse, but my limbs were ineffectual. I was paralyzed. I could not so much as raise a claw, lift a leg. I was at the mercy of these rats.

They carried me through the tunnels at a brisk pace. I felt myself jiggling up and down with each step. Each jiggle reminded me of how I was helpless, how my efforts were futile. They would eat me soon, and there was nothing I could do.

We emerged into a larger place, filled with more gnawers, dozens of them, form upon looming form. As they entered, carrying my prostrate body between them, the gnawers rushed forward with gleeful cries. I could hear them jabber meaninglessly as they eagerly crowded around me.

"He's a hero!"

"Unbelievable!"

"Even when that spinner got him, he didn't stop fighting!"

Their words meant nothing to me. I just wanted them all to go away and leave me alone. Why wouldn't they go away? Why was one pushing forward through the crowd, leaning over me?

I locked eyes with the new one. His face triggered vague memories of familiarity in me. He was shouting, calling out angrily for something.

And then I lost all hold, and tumbled backwards into myself.

…

Time… dream… floating on soft, heavenly currents… immeasurable time without thought… water poured into my mouth from an unidentifiable source above me… trickling down my muzzle… more thoughtless dreaming… until the pain hit.

Excruciating, wrenching pain, as if I was being torn apart limb by limb, pain that a thousand bodies and a thousand years could not contain. Pain that shook me of its own accord, jarring my teeth and squeezing my eyeballs in their sockets. Even to think was painful, as if my brain was a sieve through which the thoughts were forcing their way. The pain extended for an eternity, taking up my every reserve, driving me to the brink of madness, until I was plunged deep into the swirling portents of darkness that were my mind.

I was floating through the darkness, searching for something I had lost-a name, perhaps?-and sensing changes. Things were happening, but whether they were inside me or out I could not be sure. It seemed to make no difference anymore. There was something being fed to me. It was soft and mushy, mixed with water. Mashed-up fish meat…

I could dimly hear voices mumbling all around. Father, telling me I as a rager, Rendflesh, sneering at me for being a rager, Cleaver's mother, holding me down with her paw as she chastised my own mother. Sometimes I could vaguely sense beings all around me, feeding me more fish mash, asking how I was, worrying about me and my condition. Coilthroat, Mother, Flayclaw, Rendflesh, Father. No, not Father. Wasn't he dead or something? Upon my refusal to accept him, Father obediently disappeared, and was replaced by Bloodsheen, Cleaver, and Smiter…

I sat bolt upright. Smiter! That was the name I'd been searching for. He was the one who'd leaned over me, right before I'd lost consciousness. Smiter! I called out his name, and it echoed around the tiny cave I was in. I immediately recognized it as my own nest, by the lake. Somehow, after the murderous band of rats had kidnapped me from the battlefield, I'd ended up back here.

No, they hadn't been a murderous band of rats at all. I realized now that they had been ordinary soldiers. I would hardly be here otherwise. A delusion… so what else had been delusionary recently?

"Hush, now, Ripred," came a voice from nearby, the voice of the matronly old female that I sensed sometimes as she fed me the fish mash.

"Wait," I slurred. "The battle… I need to get back…" I shifted weakly, and howled with fresh agony.

"Settle down, Ripred," came the rat's voice again. "Lay still and rest." Since I could hardly do anything else, I rolled over and slipped back into myself.

Over the next few days, the dream state slowly fell away. As consciousness returned, so did the pain. Much of my fur had fallen out in patches, and my teeth were several inches longer than normal due to the lack of gnawing. The wound in my stomach and my bruises from hitting the stone flared up whenever I moved, and my scabby tail prickled continuously. The place where the spinner had pierced my neck, however, was the worst. I was forced to keep my head completely still, not moving it by a degree, or a throbbing agony would fill me, driving me back into myself each time.

Once when I woke up, Smiter was at my side. He'd received a few wounds in the battle, but he did not look seriously hurt. I felt an immediate flash of envy.

I opened my mouth, struggling to move my muscles in a way such as to create words. "How long… I been out?" I finally mumbled.

"Quite a while," said Smiter calmly. "Several days. You went temporarily insane for a spell, yelling out unintelligible things, but you seem to be recovering. You're lucky the search-and-rescue team they sent for you found you when they did. You almost died on the way back. Would have, if that _fool_Lacktalon had had his way."

"The war," I said. "How does it go?"

"It's over," said Smiter happily. "And I suppose we really ought to thank you for that."

"What?!"

"Didn't you see what you were doing? You killed hundreds of spinners. You were like a small army in and of yourself. The ground was covered with mounds of your kills. Oh, there were other factors, but you were the one that really helped to turn the tide of the battle. The spinners surrendered, and right now we're writing up a treaty."

"Treaty?" I asked. "But…" If we had really gone through all that just for there to be a treaty in the end, the entire war suddenly seemed futile. We could have arranged for a treaty without the war. Couldn't we?

"Yes, I suppose it _does_make the fighting seem a little useless," agreed Smiter. "But we still had to. If we hadn't, there still might have been a treaty, but it wouldn't have been in our favor, and the spinners might have broken it later on. We had to make them take us seriously."

I had to agree, but still… all the lives. Was all of it really necessary? And what if we had lost?

"Don't worry," said Smiter, sensing the conflicting emotions in me. "It could have been a whole lot worse, and now you're a hero."

"How exactly…" I trailed off, unable to finish.

"At the battle," said Smiter. "Even after the spinner poisoned you, you kept fighting. They're telling tales about you now in the tunnels, about how you refused to give up and singlehandedly beat back the spinner armies. Nobody will dare ignore you now."

"Even Rendflesh?"

"Well, of course Rendflesh couldn't be sated. He's been going around saying that you were careless to have been bitten by the spinner, that there's no point in having a rager around if he's dependent on other soldiers to save him, that you didn't even lead the regiment properly. But nobody's listening to him. Believe me, Ripred. Nobody's more widely renowned than you now."


	11. My First War

I'm back, after my long vacation from writing. Hey, I'd written ten chapters already. It was time for a little break. Not that I didn't do anything in the intervening month or so. I worked on some other parts of the story, and figured out a few kinks in the plot. So, for all of you out there who couldn't stand the suspense, sorry, but it really paid off in the end.

This chapter's pretty cool for a couple reasons. We really see humans for the first time (and perhaps a familiar face), and I tried to make Ripred a bit more cynical (he gets progressively more so as he grows older).

* * *

My wounds took a long time to heal, and I won't describe the process in too great detail. Suffice to say that it was a month before I could return to full activity. It was really a miraculous recovery, if you look at it that way. With the damage the venom had done me I could easily have ended up dead or maimed for life, and I was lucky to have escaped that. Of course, what else did you expect from the great Ripred?

Even now, before the wounds in my neck and chest had even fully healed, I was starting to think of myself as great. I'd known I was a rager since puphood, but to actually go onto a battlefield and fight... it did something to me. Already, I eagerly anticipated my first true fight.

You see, I didn't count my battle with spinners as real. In my mind, it was only a diversion, a preparation for the real challenge, fighting killers. That would be the true battle, the true chance to prove to myself and the gnawer nation that I was ready to be king.

It soon looked as if my chance would come. While we had been quarreling with the spinners, the humans had taken advantage of the situation to build up their army. Fragmented reports of the Regalians massing arrived from the north. Clearly, they were readying themselves for an attack on the gnawers. A war… secretly I hoped that one would happen. I relished the chance to kill fliers and humans, the strange, unnatural savages that I knew so little about.

What I knew about them I rolled over in my mind, again and again. Their capital was Regalia, which should have told me enough about them. After all, anyone who would call their city _regalia_ had to be out of whack. The bulk of the killer nation lived there. They were ruled by King Clyvan and his newlywed wife, Queen Judith.

The human army also resided in Regalia, led by Solovet (Queen Judith's mother, as it turns out). The city was difficult but not impossible to penetrate. It was surrounded by high stone walls on all sides, save for the arena. The palace itself was quite an affair, a fortified circular structure three hundred feet high (and nearly that many deep), carved without a single flaw in its walls. And below Regalia ran a raging river inhabited by snappers, one that led all the way from the Fount.

The Fount was the other human city, better protected that Regalia and harder to attack. What was the point of attacking it, anyways? Regalia was the rats' main target.

And then there were the fliers. I knew even less about them. Their homeland, I knew, was the network of caves called Troy. Once, I'd asked Smiter about the strange name, and he'd said, "It comes from an old human story. Long ago, in the Overland, there was an army that was fighting outside the gates of a city. They fought for ten years, but they still couldn't get inside the gates. Finally, one day their ships sailed away, and they left a giant wooden horse with some of their soldiers hidden inside. The people in the city, thinking that the war was over and the horse was a gift, brought the horse inside the gates. That night, the soldiers in the horse snuck out and killed everyone in the city. Since then, a Trojan horse is anything that pretends to be good but isn't, because the Trojans were the people in the city. Or maybe they were the ones fighting outside. I forget."

What this had to do with the bats naming their land Troy, I didn't know, but the tale stuck in my mind. War was supposed to be direct, head-on confrontation, but the people in the story had found a way in the gates without fighting. It seemed almost like cheating, and yet… their cleverness impressed me in a militaristic way. If we were to beat the humans, it wouldn't be by pure force but by superior intelligence, like the people who'd built the horse. But how could we do that?

Troy, the Fount, horses, lobsters… slowly, I began to piece together a plan of attack so insane that it just might work.

If I could get enough support. Right now, the rat nation was divided. King Bloodsheen was less popular than ever. Many rats had died in our confrontation with the spinners, and where had Bloodsheen been at the battle? Sitting safe and snug in his nest. The mood among the gnawers was starting to become tinged with mutiny. Still, who would dare openly seize power? While Bloodsheen himself was weak-minded and bodied, he had an entire army backing him up. Nobody could fight an army.

Except for a rager. With even a meager band of followers, I could take control. But there I was posed a problem, because for the moment I had no followers at all, however meager. The rats admired me, but they were also intimidated by my strength, I could tell. Who would truly want me to rule over them? Nobody.

And what of the Prophecy of the Crown? It was as mysterious to decipher as ever. What could it mean? Did it even apply to me? What were the "death by water" and "death by stone" that the prophecy referred to? And why was the crown even in the mix?

The rats were stretched thin, and the unpleasant mood became apparent during Bloodsheen's councils. From what I could tell, war with the humans seemed more and more likely each day. As for our allies… The fliers, of course, could be trusted to side with the killers. The nibblers probably would, too, but we felt sure that we could intimidate them enough to persuade them not to fight. The crawlers would just side with the stronger ally. Whether that meant the gnawers or the humans was unclear for now. The cutters wouldn't care. They would sit smugly in their tunnels, safe and glad that the warmbloods were going at each other, killing each other off so they wouldn't have to. And the spinners… who knew about the spinners? We'd just gotten over our skirmish with them, but they probably didn't want to risk alienating us by joining with the humans. Perhaps we could win them over. Besides the spinners, there were a few other, lesser species like shiners and twisters that wouldn't amount to anything. And then there were the lobsters. They generally sided with the rats, but they were also cowardly. Would they risk antagonizing the humans, if they thought that the possible benefits were great enough? If all went well, the Underland could be rid of killers, once and for all…

…

The war began suddenly and quietly. I don't remember all the boring details of it; they're not important anyways. The important thing is that the war started. At first there were few decisive battles. It was a guerilla war, or at least it began that way. Small parties of gnawers and killers clashed, with both sides withdrawing before any serious fighting could take place.

I wasn't involved in any of the skirmishes. This had nothing to do with my wounds, which had now healed almost completely. Instead, it was because I was too valuable a fighter to risk in petty combat. For now I would have to help our army from behind the scenes.

On the second day after the war broke out, when the tunnels were filled with the sound of many paws marching in formation, I was summoned to the gnawers' war cave. It was a large, well-lit, smooth-walled affair not far from Bloodsheen's throne room. The cave was the central hub of the rat nation during these times. Rats of every shape and size came and went, some darting in for a few hurried words and then leaving as quickly as they had come.

I soon learned that commanding troops was every bit as hard as fighting. There were times during those first weeks of the war when I barely left the cave for days on end. Attendants supplied us (the other generals and I) with food, bones to gnaw on, and any other supplies we might need.

The rats and our allies controlled most of the land south of the Waterway, as well as the areas in the west, excluding those of the fliers and crawlers. The humans, on the other hand, could claim all the tunnel space between Regalia, Troy, and the Fount, most of the northern Waterway, and everything up to the Flames, where the spinners ruled.

I made a temporary nest for myself in a corner of the war cave. I would curl up as far away as possible from the hustle and bustle, trying to catch a few winks of sleep here and there. It was hard. The war cave was a busy place, and for some strange reason everyone insisted on delivering the latest reports directly to _me._ Like I could do anything. I didn't know a single thing about war (aside from how to fight). But I wasn't going to tell anyone that, lest it spoil my glorious reputation.

The other generals, including Rendflesh, had treated me with cold cordiality since the battle with the spinners. I wasn't fooled by it for a minute. However polite he pretended to be, I knew that he was fuming inside that his plan had failed. He was probably already devising ways to kill me.

After a couple weeks, the war cave had become a prison. I itched to fight in a real battle. I grew restless, angry at the fact that other, less important rats were out fighting, while I, the great rager, sat cooped up in the royal caves, listening to dreary reports about the positioning of patrols in the Dead Land.

"…have put the humans in retreat. We believe that we'll soon be able to establish control of the region," said a general fresh from the battlefield. He was speaking to the room at large, and the half-dozen or so rats occupying it.

"Good," I growled approvingly. "Glad something's gone right. What about outside the Fount?"

"I don't know, sir," said the general. "The killers control the territory. They can surprise us by attacking when we are off guard. We'll need another regiment, at least, to have any say in that area."

"I'd send in the Fifteenth if I were you," I suggested.

Later that night, as I was nodding off, a wide-eyed, terrified messenger galloped into the room, skidding unevenly to a halt. He was foaming at the mouth, as if he'd run for quite a distance. "They're attacking!" he cried. "They're attacking off the river, at the westward end!"

Rendflesh, dozing in the center of the room, sprang to his feet. "How many?" he barked.

"At- at least two hundred."

"All right! Lacktalon! Summon all the troops you can! We'll drive these humans back with the greatest force possible. Rushlimb! Spread the word through the Tree. Get it to Fraybalk at the Labyrinth. If he can get to us in time it might decide the battle. Lashtail! Deathgrip! Stay here, mind the cave. Raspclaw! Come with me!"

I trotted forward. "I'm coming, too," I said.

"No!" snapped Rendflesh. "You stay here."

"You'll need me," I snarled.

Well, there was really nothing Rendflesh could do. He was in a hurry. If I insisted on coming with him now, he wouldn't have time to argue it properly. Besides, he really might need me.

Rendflesh darted out of the cavern and through the tunnels, Raspclaw and I close behind. We found ourselves in the Assembly Cavern, where troops of rats were already beginning to gather. "Where is Fraybalk?" called Rendflesh to a rat on the other side of the cavern.

"He is coming!" answered the rat.

There was no time to form ranks. We set off in a pack, a roughly diamond-shaped horde galloping through the tunnels at breakneck speed, making haste to the river, where the battle was taking place. I smelled the killers before I saw them. Their odor of fur woven into clothing, of flammable oils, of smoothly shaped metal… the human scent is one you never really get used to. Even today, after fighting alongside the Regalians for so long, I still cringe inwardly when I'm around too many people at once. And Overlanders are even worse, with your synthetic plastics and soaps brewed in laboratories and noxious chemicals all around.

Anyways, the clumsy pack spilled out of the tunnel and into a large cavern. The humans and fliers were caught unprepared. I had a split second to register the situation. A small pack of maybe fifty rats occupied the center of the cavern, surrounded by a dense cloud of fliers on three sides. On the fourth side flowed the river. The rats were fighting back bitterly, but they were struggling, and slowly they were forced back into the water.

As soon as we arrived, the fliers rose to greet us. They swarmed like an angry hive of bees, laying into the first row of gnawers. Meanwhile, the rats near the river took advantage of the distraction. They started to leap with renewed vigor.

A flier dove toward me, and I tensed my legs bounded straight at it. I could feel the rager sensation flick on inside me as I shot towards its throat. I was caught off guard, however, but the human atop the bat, who swung his sword at me. I dived back just in time. I heard the swish as it came within less than an inch of my skull.

Again I sprang. The human swept at me with his sword again, but this time I was prepared. I knocked it out of the way with my tail (careful to hit the flat end of the blade, not the sharp), and leapt for his throat. The bat, a slender specimen with a beige coat, zoomed off before I could finish it. By this time, more humans had gathered. They sensed my prowess and each wanted to be the one to eliminate me.

It didn't take long for me to adapt to their way of fighting. Their tactics were strange compared to those of gnawers or spinners, but once I had sensed their weak points it was simple. A crowd of about a dozen followed me wherever I went. As I spun, they would narrow in on me, swords held out menacingly. I had to leap in a circle, hopping from paw to paw, dancing as I dodged the blows. The movements came instinctively, as if I had a sense of what would happen before it actually did. Still, I always felt one step away from stumbling.

Although I was fighting well, the battle around me didn't seem to be turning either way. The rats outnumbered the killers slightly, but we were less prepared, whereas the assault had been carefully planned out beforehand by the human strategists. I injured many humans, killed more than a few, but there were always more. For each human/flier pair I put out of action, there was another ready to take it place.

There was one in particular, a female atop a reddish-brown flier, who was causing mayhem for the rats. She darted here and there, her sword flicking in and out, sometimes flying upside down and holding on with clenched knees, her sword held above her head as it sliced away indiscriminately.

Knowing that it wouldn't do to have her around much longer, I ran to meet her. I reared up on my hind legs and hissed a challenge when she flew near. She turned, expecting an easy kill. As she faced me, I stepped back a few paces and hurdled straight at her neck.

She swung at me. I easily caught her sword in my teeth, but she yanked it free forcefully. In the split second that I had to look at her then, I noticed how old she was. I hadn't yet been around humans enough to be a good judge of their age, but she seemed older than most of the others here on the-

I heard the blade coming, and ducked instinctively. It whistled past in a delicate arc, gleaming in the torchlight. I swiped a claw at her flier, opening up a long but shallow wound in its belly. I took advantage of the injury by whipping my tail in her direction. The impact, which would have knocked any other human to the ground, barely jarred her. I saw her preparing to slash again and withdrew.

Another rat darted up, calling for me. "Rendflesh wants you!" he yelled, gesturing to the corner where the general watched grimly. I nodded in assent, and began to make my way to him.

"I've just received word," panted Rendflesh when I got to him. "Fraybalk's coming. He'll be here in a few minutes. If we can hold out until then, we've won. I need you to hold up the point back there." He gestured to a spot near the river. There, the humans were clustered thickly and the rats seemed to be faltering. "Keep them busy for a bit. Distract them until Fraybalk can get here."

"All right!" I snarled back, already rushing off. I circled around to the place near the river. Sure enough, it was going badly for the rats there. Several lay dead, and many more were injured. I threw myself into the fray, tearing open the chest of a human in less than a second.

Once again, the humans clustered around me. I raised myself and began to pivot, slashing at everything that came within reach. I was a whirlwind of power, a whirlwind of blood and death. My vision narrowed, and my echolocation sharpened as I fell deeper into the rager trance.

Soon, I heard calls of "Fraybalk!" and I knew that his troop had arrived. I couldn't see them, but I could hear them; their paws swiftly gathering into a run, their voices shouting hoarse battle cries.

Well, after they joined the fight, it didn't take long to decide the battle. Rather than lose soldiers for no purpose, the humans wisely fled for their own pathetic lives. They left behind them a cave full of gnawers, cheering victory cries at their departing backs, doing somersaults in the air for sheer delight.

Even Rendflesh congratulated me. "Very good, rager, very good indeed," he said in a hateful voice. "Not every rat can face Solovet like you did."

"Solovet?" I asked, looking up from the river, where I was washing my coat clean of blood.

"The female on the rust-red flier. Didn't you recognize her?"

"_That_ was Solovet? That old maid leads the killer army? Why, I was expecting much better," I said. It was a lie. Solovet had radiated power and deadliness. And she had been able to take a stand against me, the only human who had been able to do that today.

For a moment I felt a dead weight of guilt as I remembered the faces of the killers I had killed. They had been alive. They were a strange race, but they were still creatures, as much as I. They had had life. And I… I had taken that away from them.

I shoved the guilt back down inside me, ashamed at my temporary weakness. I was a rager. There was no room for sympathy in me. I had to be quick, deadly, and remorseless if I was to survive in the battles to come.


	12. An Army of Lobsters

Okay, here's where it gets good. This is the long-awaited part where Ripred tries to take over the Fount with an army of lobsters. I've dropped a few hints that this was coming, which a perceptive reader might have picked up on.

The actual battle doesn't take place in this chapter, just the stuff leading up to it. At the time of this being published, I've already written most of the next chapter, but don't expect me to give that away just yet (muahaha). It was the most fun I've had writing this in a long time, for the last few chapters I've kinda been stuck in writer's block, so that was why I sucked (in my opinion at least).

* * *

Well, once the ice had been broken and the war started in earnest, it dragged on and on. Battles occurred quite regularly; reports flew in by the minute with the latest updates. Sleep became a faint memory for anyone in the War Cave. Although I longed to join the fighting, Rendflesh had explicitly forbidden me to. He was too afraid that another incident like that with the spinners would take place; that I would end up stealing all the glory and eclipsing him. Well, if Rendflesh thought that I was going to sit in the war cave while other rats did the fighting, he was sadly mistaken.

A month into the war, and we were in a stalemate. Both sides had suffered heavy casualties, but the war overall wasn't swinging either way. If I had been allowed to fight I might have been able to make a difference, I thought with frustration. Some of the battles we'd lost had only just been. I could have changed all that. Rendflesh's selfish pride would have us lose the war sooner than see me surpass him.

As the fighting wore on, Rendflesh grew more impatient. The mood in the War Cave was becoming harsh and irritable. With each passing day, I could see everyone's mood becoming grimmer, their faces gaunt and wan… and I could feel it happening to myself, as well. I admit that I'm not good company even at the best of times, but back then…

King Bloodsheen, on the other hand, seemed blissfully unaware that there was even a war on. Although content to lounge in his cave for the rest of his days, he _was_ expected to check up on us occasionally. His visits to the war cave (flanked by his two attendants) were objects of scorn among the generals. Even Rendflesh treated him with badly masked derision.

It was on one such visit that my opportunity came. Bloodsheen was lying smack in the center of the war cave, like a great lump of clay that had been dropped on the floor with a splat. Our great ruler lay flopped over, his giant crimson belly spread across the floor in an almost liquid fashion. Occasionally his ears would twitch as he took in new information, but other than that he lay perfectly still.

I was slumped in a similar position in my corner, as far away from the other rats as possible. After so many days in the same cavern, their scent was unbearable. I suppose mine was, too. I hadn't bathed in several weeks, and my fur lay in damp, mildewed clumps. Try as I might to slick it down, it would refuse to cooperate. Not that it mattered. I was never one for hygiene.

The only rat present who seemed to even be alive was Rendflesh. Right now, he was explaining the war situation to an unappreciative audience consisting of Bloodsheen, myself, and the other three rats in the cave. As he spoke, he waved his claws about so violently that it was a wonder he hadn't put someone's eye out.

Besides me and the king (and his two attendants waiting at the doorway), Rendflesh's audience consisted of two generals (Raspclaw and Deathgrip) and the gnawer in charge of information, Rushlimb. Rushlimb was the rat who dealt with the most important Tree of Transmission messages. It was he who had sent out the message for all troops to gather in the Assemble Cavern, back during our war with the spinners. In real life, he was quite unpleasant to be around. Right now he was gnawing on a bone, sending a sharp scraping reverberating through the cave. It grated on my nerves, but I had the sense not to ask him to stop. Tempers were running short, and it might lead to a fight. I wouldn't want to actually have to kill anyone or anything like that.

Oblivious to our inattentiveness, Rendflesh made his way through a long oration about the cost of the war for gnawer families back home. "Seriously, if we don't come to some decisive conclusion soon, the conflict could drag on for years. And we just can't have that. The public is starting to lose faith. There's even talk of rebellion in some parts, as I'm sure you all know." He paused a moment, to let his words sink in.

"So," he finished with a note of bitterness in his voice, "What do you propose we do about it?"

"A full attack is warranted," said Deathgrip slowly. "We've been fighting in clumps so far. I'm sure if we all gather, we can paint a more imposing picture."

"Where shall this attack be?" asked the king.

"Well," Rendflesh said hesitantly, "Regalia is the best bet we have. We've got many troops in the area, but they've done nothing, and the humans grow lax. If we appear outside the gates, and pose a challenge, it might just take them by surprise enough to shake the city from their grasp. They shall fumble it, and Regalia shall be ours!"

"At last, something," said Raspclaw, and I could hear the relief in his voice and those of the other rats. Finally, we were getting somewhere! "So, when do we attack?"

"We must start the preparations at once," said Rendflesh. "It shall take several days, less if we rush it. But secrecy is the key. We can afford to take a little longer, if we keep this confidential for longer."

"So we appear and challenge the Regalians. Suppose they refuse that challenge?" I asked, and five pairs of eyes turned to me with extreme dislike.

"They can't refuse it," said Raspclaw simply. "Not when they know we'll end up killing them all if they don't respond at once. They have no choice, which is why it's such a good deal for us."

"Good," I said. "So it's settled. I'll be fighting, of course." My intent was for me to have to opposite effect, to assure that I would be banned from participating in the ensuing battle. I had other plans, things to do which I didn't need any of the other rats interfering in. I'd been thinking during my weeks in the War Cave, thinking and planning and scheming. The idea I'd had for a Trojan horse had expanded and deepened to form a cunning, sharp battle plan.

Sure enough, King Bloodsheen immediately said, "Of course you won't. We can't risk bringing you out yet. You'll remain behind in the war cave."

I thought I could sense some of the fear that I'd smelled so long ago, back when I'd first met the king and told him that I was a rager. I realized that despite his sluggish outward appearance, Bloodsheen was just as clever as Rendflesh… and just as dangerous.

"Very well," I said meekly, carefully keeping the sarcasm out of my voice. "I'll stay put."

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, because Bloodsheen snapped, "And don't you get any ideas about sneaking off, or I'll throw you in a pit."

"Yes, your Majesty," I said, this time allowing myself more sarcasm.

…

The war cave was a busy place. It was easy for me to depart unnoticed. I did so later that day, right after a messenger had arrived and the other rats were distracted.

I'd be gone for a while, and the other rats were certain to notice my disappearance. Well, who cared? I wasn't their slave! It was none of their business if I wanted to make a journey across the Underland.

My journey was uneventful, for the most part. The most memorable thing about it were the war victims. I must have passed hundreds of dismembered corpses, strewn about the tunnels and caves in thick clusters, almost as if they had been placed there merely for decoration by some sick god. Humans, fliers, gnawers, and countless other species. I ignored most of them, but felt slight remorse every time I came across a large group of rats' bodies. I found myself having to continually suppress the feeling, to always remind myself that I was a rager and had no time for such sentimentalities.

The piles of bodies grew in number as I approached Regalia. Here the most serious fighting had taken place. Many of the tunnels were painted with thick layers of blood, turning rapidly brown as it dried. Outside Regalia, where the rats often went to feed off the humans' garbage, the corpses were layers thick.

Even if the bodies hadn't been there, I would have been able to tell that I was nearing Regalia. I kept out of sight and therefore didn't see it past the occasional glimpse, but I experienced it with each of my other senses. The city swarmed with busy movement, buzzing like an anthill as bats swooped and darted above it. The streets below rang with deafening noise as thousands of people coursed through them. Their noxious smell was almost overpowering, and I was glad when I had moved past the city and back into the blissfully quiet empty tunnels (as empty as anything in the Underland can be, in any case).

But not long after Regalia had been left behind, I found myself approaching another, smaller city, which I knew to be the Fount. Here lay my destination.

Finding the snappers was a cinch. Below the Fount, the river was simply teeming with them. After a while, I reached a cave where the current ran slowly and a good few dozen occupied the water. Most were resting on the river bottom, but a few broke the surface every now and then. They seemed barely aware of my presence, and it was only when I loudly announced myself that they began to take any notice.

"Greetings, snappers!" I bawled, and they began to scuttle about with slightly more movement. After several minutes, half a dozen at once surfaced and faced me, claws held out threateningly. I flopped down on the riverbank to show my good intentions, but I was not above muttering _"Finally"_ under my breath.

"Snappers," I said in English (the default language of the Underland), "I come to make a deal with you. Do any of you know he called Tpacchslatskillt?"

The snappers turned to each other and clicked their pincers together in a consulting way. Finally, the foremost spoke cautiously. "I know him. He rests upriver from here."

"Good," I said, in no mood to deal with formalities. "I want to talk with him. Go and tell him that Ripred's here. The name should mean something to him. If not, say Wrathspur's pup."

The snappers clicked together for a while before the lead one said, "Why should we take you?"

"We are old friends," I said, which of course was a gross exaggeration. "I come to negotiate with him, and offer a deal to him."

"Deal?" asked the snapper. "What deal?"

"That's for me to know," I said, starting to get fed up with these stupid shellfish. "Now, take me to him or I'll bite all your pincers off." I remembered being afraid of Tpacchslatskillt's giant claws when I'd been a pup. Now that six or seven snappers were facing me and actually posing a threat, the claws meant nothing to me.

"Very well," hissed the lobsters reluctantly, and began to scuttle downstream. I followed after, trotting along the bank at a brisk pace to keep up.

We passed through several caverns, and finally reached another group of snappers. The ones I'd been traveling with dived underwater and started to converse with these in muffled clicks. Finally, one broke the surface. I vaguely recognized this one.

"Tpacchslatskillt," I greeted him casually. "How go the waters?"

"Well," he said. "How go them for you?"

"Not well at all," I said. "My father is dead. I have joined the gnawer army, which, as you must know, is engaged in a war with the humans."

"Indeed? You have joined them?" asked Tpacchslatskillt. "You must be far up, to be speaking with me as you do."

"Of course," I purred. "I'm a rager."

Tpacchslatskillt seemed taken aback. "A rager? Indeed?" he kept saying, in between short bursts of agitated clicking. "We of the river have heard no news of any rager."

"I suppose you wouldn't," I conceded. "The other rats are keeping it all very hush-hush. They want to keep me their secret weapon. But I've already helped win a battle against the spinners. Perhaps you've heard of that." I gingerly ran my claws over my throat, which still tingled where the spinner had bitten me.

"I have heard rumors," clicked Tpacchslatskillt. "A group of crawlers… you were the rat they spoke of? They did not give a name."

I felt a moment of pity for the snapper nation, relying on crawlers to bring its news. I couldn't wait until I was done with this and never had to see another lobster as long as I loved. But some things had to be done, and if it meant using snappers as a tool to ensure victory, then snappers it would have to be.

"I'm a rager, all right. And unless you want me to demonstrate my abilities on you, I suggest you don't argue the point. All right, here's the deal. The gnawers are going to attack Regalia in several days' time. This is a pretty big secret, by the way. By telling you this, I'm endangering my life." Well, I wasn't really in danger. I was more than a match for anything Bloodsheen could try to execute me with. But I would lose all standing and probably be cast out of the gnawer nation if it was found out that I'd told of the attack.

"The humans will be forced to defend their city," I continued. "While they are, I want to have an army of snappers ready to attack the Fount. None of the other gnawers know about my plan. They're too determined to ruin things for me to give me an opportunity to actually fight and maybe even make a difference. They see me as a threat, since I'm a rager. Anyways, the killers will be stretched thin. Virtually no able-bodied humans or fliers will remain at the Fount. We'll take the city in a single swoop. And if the army rushes to defend the Fount, then that's even better. They'll be leaving Regalia vulnerable, and the rat armies will ravage it in seconds. It's a win-win either way." Well, actually, there were several ways that my plan could go wrong, not least of which was the possibility that Rendflesh would find out and move to stop me. But of course I couldn't tell Tpacchslatskillt that. I had to sugarcoat everything, to get him to go along with the plan.

Tpacchslatskillt seemed to be seriously considering the offer, weighing the possibilities in his tiny crustacean brain. Finally he said, "How will we attack the Fount? It lies in an impenetrable cave."

Of all the stupid questions! And coming from a snapper, no less. He should have seen it right off, but of course, I had to spell everything out. I sighed and said, "The Fount is impenetrable in all ways but one. The river that runs down it is easily accessible by snappers, is it not? It'll be simple for a snapper army to attack from the river."

Even then, Tpacchslatskillt's pea-brain wasn't satisfied. "But you will be with us, will you not? How will you attack? The river rapids are too dangerous for any rat to swim."

I ground my teeth in frustration, barely stopping myself from calling Tpacchslatskillt every foul name I could think of. "Listen, that's not a problem. I'll just ride on your back or something. Anyways, you shouldn't be thinking about that. You're just supposed to recruit the army. Gather as many snappers as you can. Do whatever it takes to sway them to our cause. Promise them a year of free fish if you must. We'll need at least a couple hundred for the assault to be successful." I was acting under the assumption that Tpacchslatskillt agreed to the plan, which he never had. I hoped I could psyche him into agreeing.

"Yes, I shall, but-"

I cut him off. "Good. The rats won't be able to attack for at least ten days or so, so that gives you plenty of time. Make the most of it. Spend every spare moment recruiting. Meet me at the mouth of the river in the rats' land in… eight days, and give me a full report. We can form a plan from there."

"Very well," sighed Tpacchslatskillt, his resistance crumbling. I watched as he resignedly sank beneath the waters.

…

When I got back to the War Cave several hours later, I could tell I had been missed. I had no sooner walked across the threshold than I was accosted by every single general, as well as the king, each loudly demanding to know where I'd been.

"Shut up, shut up," I commanded them all, sweeping them away with my tail. "Can't a rat go hunting without someone sending the bloody army after him?"

Rendflesh narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Hunting?" he queried. "Why would you need to go hunting? You could have called an attendant to hunt for you."

"I'll tell you why," I said, lying smoothly (I had, in fact, fine-tuned my story beforehand). "I'm tired of this stupid cave and all the stupid rats in it. I needed to stretch my legs, especially-" here I cast a furious glance at the king "-as I'm not even going to be fighting. And besides, it's quite frankly none of your business if I want to go off hunting. You're lucky I'm even helping you fight your stupid war." By this time, I was in Rendflesh's face.

My artificial show of anger did the trick, and the rats backed down and left me alone. In fact, they did a pretty good job of not bothering me for the next few days, although that could have been because they had no time for me. The war cave was busier than ever as the rats prepared for their attack on Regalia. It was quite a job to plan an attack that big, even of you weren't also having to keep it secret. The war cave became a flurry of movement and action, like time had been speeded up tenfold locally.

It was quite easy for me, when tie time came, to sneak off to the river to meet Tpacchslatskillt. I waited for over an hour sitting perched on a rock at the river's mouth, where it poured into the great endless Waterway. I was just about to give up when a pair of feelers broke the surface, followed by those giant pincers and the segmented body.

"I've been working hard to recruit the snappers to our cause, Ripred," he said. "I managed to get several important ones over to my side, and we've all been trying to convince the others."

"How many have you gotten?" I asked.

"Many remain doubtful, but many others believe in our cause. I have had great success in some areas, and a fair number have joined me."

"_How many?"_ I snarled.

Snappers aren't that good at counting, so Tpacchslatskillt probably wasn't beating around the bush with me. He spent several minutes adding up in his head before responding, "At least fifty and a hundred."

"That's not _good_ enough!" I snarled, smacking my tail against the ground. "We need more. Our armies will be attacking in four days. I want you to have at least fifty and _two_ hundred by then."

"I cannot-" began Tpacchslatskillt sadly.

"You can and you will," I said, pacing back and forth on the bank. "The gnawer's are departing four days hence, and I'll join you sometime that day. I want to find your army of fifty and two hundred waiting and ready to go by the time I arrive. You can do it. I know you can. So don't give me any more excuses."

"Very well," said Tpacchslatskillt resignedly. "I shall make an effort."

"Good," I purred. "Now, farewell."

"Farewell," said Tpacchslatskillt, as he sank back into the water, this time looking mutinous.

…

The rat's army was ready to go according to plan, four days later. After a frantic last minute effort by the generals, all was ready, prepared, checked and double-checked. Rats from all over the gnawer nation were assembling in the Assembly Cavern, but the generals themselves were catching a few minutes of much-needed sleep in the War Cave. They would be woken in a few minutes, so that they could be in the Assembly Cavern in time to lead the army, or, if they were staying, see it off.

Having done little work in the last few days, I was the only rat not tired enough to sleep. I couldn't have, anyways. Now was my opportunity to sneak off, before the generals woke up and the army left. I felt slightly bad about missing out on the whole grand hullabaloo of a seeing-off ceremony, but I had no choice. Who knew when I'd get another chance to simply walk out, like the one I had now?

I took one last glance around the war cave. The rats lay strewn like beanbags on the floor. I was sure to be missed, but Rendflesh would probably just think I'd snuck off to the battle. What could he do about it? Nothing. There was the chance he'd send someone to track my scent, but chances were that everyone would be too busy to care. Even so, I ought to put as much distance between us as I could.

There was such hubbub in the tunnels that I was able to sneak away from the war cave and out of the rat lands unnoticed. After that, I made good timing. I ran as fast as I could without unnecessarily wasting energy that I would need to fight. If there was even to be a fight. Had the snappers managed to gather enough soldiers for their cause? Was I, even now, running off on a wild goose chase? The thought made me lose heart, and I faltered.

Don't stop, I told myself as I ran, panting, through the tunnels of the Underland. Don't stop. Your world needs you. Your fellow rats need you.

My fellow rats… what would they say if I failed and returned home? What would Rendflesh say?

Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

I approached Regalia. Apparently, they had some notion they were about to be attacked, because they were hopping about with even more activity than before. I passed on the side of the arena, not the side of the fields, and I had to several times flatten myself against the wall to make myself invisible to the radar of a nearby bat. They and their killers were moving great stone slabs to fortify the arena's gates.

Did Rendflesh know that he was expected? Did Smiter know?

My feet pounded with the same rhythm. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

I passed Regalia, and the city's sensations faded away. Soon they were lost, a mere memory behind me. Rendflesh's army must be closing in on the city by now. Would an equally powerful army of humans be waiting for them? Would Solovet be waiting for them?

I remembered Solovet, the very picture of power and discipline, raising her sword above her head…

Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Think about… think about…

Think about Father. Think about how he'd been killed by humans. Think about how I was avenging him now, finally. How long had it been since he'd died now? A year perhaps? Well, my revenge might be late in coming, but it would come all the same. I would strike the unsuspecting humans of the Fount a deadly blow, one that they would speak of for years to come.

My rager side took over, my feet accelerating, moving automatically. I turned my thoughts to the fight to come. Every step brought me closer to the Fount, to my quarry, to my prey. It was far too late to back down now. Even if I wanted to. Which I didn't.

I emerged on the bank of the river. Not missing a single step, I fell in alongside it. It rushed past me in the opposite direction, sending white foam spraying into the air, dampening my coat… I trotted onward, always onward. If it was too late…

I was so blind to the world that I almost ran into the form of Tpacchslatskillt as he scuttled up onto the riverbank in front of me. I skidded to a halt at the last moment, and only then realized how dreadfully tired I was. Stop it, I told myself. Don't be such a pup. There's worse to come.

"Come, gnaw-er, and see my army," Tpacchslatskillt clicked. I thought I could detect a smirk in his voice.

And innumerable forms rose out of the mist, hundreds and hundreds of snappers, filling up the river, some pushed onto the beaches. Tears of pride almost came to my eyes as I saw them, the hundreds of lobsters that made up my army. I hastily pushed back the tears before anyone could see.

"How many?" I asked Tpacchslatskillt.

"At least twenty five and four hundred," came the response. "We could not win over all, but many decided to join us."

"You've done well, Tpacchslatskillt. Very well indeed. Are they all ready to attack?"

"Yes," he said simply.

"Good," I growled. "As for me…" I surveyed the snappers before me and picked out one of the largest. "You. What is your name?"

"Rocchsnaanslocts, sir," said the snapper.

"Well, Rocchsnaanslocts, you'll be my mount for our trip up the river. I'll ride on you until we reach the Fount. There I'll do all my fighting on foot."

"Very well," he said hesitantly. He didn't look too happy about it, but what did I care?

I climbed atop Rocchsnaanslocts' back. This took several tries, but I finally managed to get a grip by digging my front claws in between his shell. A precarious hold. I lifted my rear paws up, and dug them in too. Now I felt comfortable with my grip. I looped my tail around the snapper's body for good measure, and nodded at Tpacchslatskillt.

"Go," he clicked in a single tap of his claws.

The army started forward.

* * *

Ah, little Ripred, so grown up, already leading his own army (sob). And it seemed like just yesterday when General Coilthroat could scare the heck out of him.


	13. Battle of the Fount

Here it is, folks, your Christmas present from me. The chapter depicting the long-awaited attack on the Fount. You'll see another familiar face in this one, too, one of the residents of the Fount (not Howard, he wasn't born yet).

Okay, I've said enough. Have a happy whatever-you-celebrate (always a sucker for political correctness, I am). That is all.

* * *

I held tight to Rocchsnaanslocts' back as he scuttled toward the river. At first he swayed violently, and it was only by redoubling my hold that I wasn't thrown off. Rocchsnaanslocts merged with the crowd of lobsters as they pressed toward the water's edge, one by one plopping into the frothy water. Once they'd plunged into the current, they would move against it by rapidly curling and uncurling their bodies underwater, wiggling so fast that they propelled themselves forward.

"Don't stay under for too long!" I ordered Rocchsnaanslocts. "I'll have to breathe." The large snapper gave no sign that he'd heard me. There was also the danger that he'd knock me off with his curling movement, but I couldn't think about that right now.

Closer and closer we got to the river. Most of the snappers had taken to the water now, and we were among the last left on the beach.

"Let me breathe!" I ordered Rocchsnaanslocts again, and this time he clicked his pincers once to show he'd heard me. And then we were scuttling forward again… I could feel the tip of my tail dragging on the rocks, and reflexively lifted it up… and with a splash, we were in the river.

Fire. Icy fire. I screamed as my paws touched it, then quickly clamped my mouth shut. Stupid, stupid! If I'd done that when I was underwater I'd be dead immediately. I started to take a deep breath, but before I could fill my lungs I was submerged.

Pain all around me. The frozen water attacked me, jarring my brain, setting each of my nerves blazing. Such pain… I gritted my teeth so hard that I swear several splintered and broke off. Slowly, the pain faded and I became numb to the cold, numb to everything. I held on desperately to Rocchsnaanslocts' back as he bucked violently, knowing how horribly I'd die if I relaxed my grip even slightly.

Most frightening of all was that my senses seemed to have all been turned off. I couldn't echolocate. I couldn't smell. Only the mosses on the river bottom provided faint light, enough for me to catch occasional glimpses of the other lobsters, scuttling along in front of me and behind me and on every side. Rocks of every size also flowed past us, pushed along by the river, and several collided with us.

How much farther to the beaches of the Fount? We must have gone quite a ways already, but we didn't seem to have moved at all. I would be in pretty bad shape by the time I got there. That was for sure. If I was even alive…

You see, rats have bigger lungs proportionally than you humans, but even the strongest rat (like me) needs a breath every couple minutes. And I had been in the water for far longer than was safe. I would have to get to the surface and take a few good breaths soon. If there even was a surface. Maybe at this point, the river filled the entire tunnel from floor to ceiling. Maybe I was right now making my way through a tunnel of water. The snappers in their stupidity could easily have forgotten that I needed to breathe. Or maybe we were passing through one of the bad-air caves, the caverns so deep in the earth that their air was too thin to survive on…

My lungs were screaming for air. I only had a matter of seconds left before I'd have to take a breath, and that would kill me. Desperately, I smacked Rocchsnaanslocts across the front with my tail… and I felt him rising, slowly but steadily upward.

Just as I felt my will crumble, we broke the surface. I could feel the air- oh, the wonderful, delicious air!- all around me, entering my lungs, my bloodstream, my brain. It didn't matter that it chilled my fur with its biting wind. I could do nothing but lie on Rocchsnaanslocts' back and breathe, breathe, breathe, until I hissed between chattering teeth "go," and then we were off again, fighting against the current with renewed vigor.

On and on the river went. It seemed endless. It seemed as if we travelled light-years, although really it couldn't have been more than a few miles. Boulders flew at my face, and I was jarred loose several times, only narrowly hanging on each time.

Soon we could sense the Fount up ahead. It took a moment for me to recognize it for what it was. Swimming the dangerous river rapids had drained every thought from my mind. My first thought was one of bitter appreciation of the city's secluded protection. Now I knew why it was never attacked by rats.

The river had slowed down, and the snapper army approached cautiously, casually, so as not to arouse suspicion. Snappers came in by the river often enough so that the killers wouldn't know it was an attack until after it began… or unless they saw me. A rat among the lobsters was sure to raise a red flag.

The current, although still strong, was gentle compared to how it had been earlier. The snappers floated at the surface, like a fleet of ships. We passed the Swag, passed the series of caves that would later house a colony of nibblers. At other times of the year, the river would be rough here, too.

I could see the Fount now, its golden torchlight twinkling far off in the distance. There were fliers flitting above the city, but their movement was subdued. Probably there weren't any soldiers left. They would all have gone off to fight at Regalia, and, anyways, what did they have to fear? They were safe. Or so they thought.

Regalia. Rendflesh's army would surely have struck there by now. Was the battle going well for them? Had they-

Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Think about Father.

I lay spread out on Rocchsnaanslocts' back, slowly and raggedly inhaling as I tried to regain my strength. There would be fighting ahead. It wouldn't do to tire myself out before the battle even began.

The snappers must have sensed my weakness, because several of them dove into the river and surfaced with fish clenched in their claws. "Eat," commanded one, holding his fish out to me.

I eagerly gobbled down several fish, but refused any more. It wouldn't do to be fat and sluggish during the fight. The fish I'd eaten were enough to bring me strength and stop my chilled shivers.

We neared the cave which lodged the Fount. We sailed up a narrow, high-ceilinged tunnel that must often be traversed by fliers. I could see the city's light getting closer and closer… and we burst out of the tunnel.

My first thought was that I was at the foot of a mountain. After I had regained my bearings, I looked up at the Fount and gasped. The city was built on a slope. Unlike Regalia, which was situated on relatively even ground, the Fount looked as if it had been carved into the side of a hill. The city stretched away in front of us and above us, tiers upon tiers, the dwellings becoming more elaborate and fanciful the higher they got, statues and fountains adorning the crisscrossing web of streets at every corner. And at the farthest level, fearfully high up and hugging the far wall, stood the palace.

Oh, it was a thing of beauty, that palace. While the Regalian palace was nothing but a great fortress, this one was a thousand times as beautiful, if rather less easy to defend. It rose up until it was almost scraping the ceiling. Towers and turrets, arches and pillars, windows and doorways, domes and minarets…

As for the river… we had entered at the bottom, where the water left the cave. Down here, the river cut the lower levels in half. Ahead of us we could se a waterfall, spilling down to us from a lake several hundred feet above our heads. The lake was fed by another waterfall, which in turn spilled out of a tunnel mouth directly beneath the palace.

I stood for a moment, transfixed by the Fount's beauty… and then shook my head to clear it. The great slope would only work against us. We'd have to fight upwards to reach the castle, even though lobsters were no good at climbing. It would be an uphill battle, all right.

The streets were thronged with people, and bats zoomed back and forth above. None seemed to take much notice of the army of lobsters… until they saw that a rat was perched on the back of one. Only a few seconds after I popped out of the tunnel, I could hear frantic yells from above, and see a contingent of fliers zooming off toward the distant palace.

Let them, I thought. Their city was doomed.

I leapt off Rocchsnaanslocts' back, into the river. It was fairly shallow here, and I barely had to fight the current as I waded to shore. I reached the beach and climbed onto firm land. Waving the army onward with my paw, I yelled, "Attack! Take the city! Kill every last human!"

And the snappers began to scuttle out of the water and onto the beaches.

…

It was bedlam in the streets. The slow-moving herds of killers that thronged every street in the Fount dropped everything and ran, with screams aplenty, toward their palace. They formed frantic mobs, crowding the streets and hindering their own escape. I saw a few simply knocked into the river. Carts were upended, their contents spilled across the ground.

There was such chaos that for several minutes nobody thought of fighting us. The snappers advanced quickly, dismembering anyone who got in their way. Within minutes, not a human remained anywhere in the lower Fount. All were either dead or had escaped up to the higher part of the city, where a frantic attempt was now ensuing to airlift them to the palace.

Snappers scuttled back and forth in the streets, clicking triumphantly, as I mounted a building. It was a plain, unadorned tower, but it was quite tall, with a wide flat roof, and from it I could see much of the city (much of the lower part, that is; the majority of the city's tiers still rose above me) and form a plan of attack.

I scrambled to the top and looked frantically in every direction. The human rescue missions were still going on, but a small group of killers and fliers had veered away and were flying to attack. I called down a warning to the milling throngs of lobsters in the streets below. "An attack! Get ready!"

As the humans came closer, however, I saw that their target was _me._

They shot down past the first waterfall and the lake, and then turned sharply. They flew out over the rooftops, getting closer and closer until I could count them. There weren't more than ten or eleven, I noticed with triumph. It takes more than that to bring down a rager.

The fliers fanned out around the building and attacked from all sides. It was sudden, but I was prepared for the torrent of swords and claws that suddenly bombarded me. Once flier made the mistake of getting too close to my claws. I dispatched her, sending the bat and her rider spinning across the rooftop and down into the streets below. The snappers' talons clicked, and I knew that they had finished the job.

The humans fought well, but none of them were really up to the task of fighting a rager. Within seconds, I had killed four more and sent two others flying off to receive medical treatment. None of the remaining ones looked particularly competent, either… except for one.

He was enormous, for a human. Taller than I would be standing on my hind legs. He sat precariously balanced on his bat, sweat beading his forehead and dampening his lank, silvery-blonde hair. He fought boldly, taking risks and actually succeeding in forcing me back a few paces.

Something about him rang a bell in my head, but I couldn't quite place it. Suddenly, it struck. York! This man was the governor of the Fount. Rendflesh had mentioned his name several times, but I'd never given him much thought. Now it all matched. The size, the flier (a shade of beige), the powerful fighting ability which put me continually on the defensive, backing me up against the other humans and forcing me to have to block his sword with my tail again and again.

I parried his blow once more, and he yelled with frustration, "You have made an error in coming here, gnawer! The Regalian army is coming! I have sent word-"

"Your army is otherwise occupied at the moment!" I snorted, ripping open a bat's belly.

"You will be dead within the hour!" he bellowed.

"Maybe," I spat, "but I wouldn't count on it."

Meanwhile, down in the streets, the snappers were under attack. After ushering all those unfit to fight into the palace, the soldiers left in the Fount (more than I expected) had risen to the occasion, and were bitterly defending their city. They were gaining the upper hand, too. Slowly, my army was being forced back to the river, where many simply turned and fled. I snarled curses under my breath at them. Idiots! I'd personally track every one of them down and tear out their hearts when this battle was over!

The remaining humans I was fighting on the rooftop faltered and fell back, drawn to the fighting below. "Never mind the rat," ordered York disgustedly from atop his flier. "We shall attend to him later."

The killers dispersed, veering off in different directions. I was alone on the rooftop. Panting heavily, I looked around. The fight was going badly. Tpacchslatskillt's army had advanced nearly halfway up the hill to the palace before being met by the killer army. The humans were better fighters than the lobsters, who, although strong, were slow and clumsy. I watched as, near the river, several humans surrounded two defenseless lobsters and, getting a hold in their shells, heaved and pushed them a hundred feet down a flight of steps. They fell to the stone pavement at the bottom with a lethal-sounding crunch and lay on their shells, legs still waving feebly. One killer methodically ran his sword through them, and he and his companions flew off.

I ran roaring to the edge of the building and leapt off. I dropped eighty feet, landing on the cobblestones below with a thump. I was quite an immense fall, even for me, and at any other time I would have felt it. In the midst of battle, however, it barely made my paws tingle. I dashed off through the streets, passing clumps of humans and lobsters fighting. I also passed bodies, but I paid them no heed, so eager was I to join in the fray.

I rounded a corner and there they were: a large pack of ten or twelve snappers fighting maybe fifteen humans. The fliers flitted here and there, flipping upside down and backwards to fight. The snappers feebly waved their claws in the air, even though it did no good.

With a snarl and a bound, I entered the fight. The humans looked up, shocked, to see the lone rat appear, but they took it in stride, smoothly turning to battle me. I fought back, and the world receded.

Ah, it was bliss! To fight so completely, to lose myself in the fighting, to let it sweep me along in its nourishing current! I hadn't truly let myself experience rager mode, not in my last battle with the humans, not in that one battle with the spinners, not since I'd been a pup in the Garden of the Hesperides. Always, I'd kept it in check. Always, I'd been suppressing it with some part of me. But now…

Now the universe disappeared completely. There was nothing, no sound but the whistling and smacking of blades and tails, no light but that which shone upon my enemies, no scent but that that of the killers and fliers nearby. I was barely aware of the larger battle. It was nothing but a meaningless hustle and bustle, something to be blocked out.

A snapper came scuttling up to me from a side street. "Gnaw-er!" it hissed. "We have taken the fifth dike!"

The words barely registered with me. What had happened? Something good. It was several minutes before the image of the levies that lined the lake shore came to mind, and I was able to choke out, "Hold the point! Do not falter!"

And so the battle wore on and on. I lost myself in my rager sensation like Fangor and Shed used to lose themselves in those bad mushrooms they used to always eat (remind me not to tell you about that). I fought, cleanly killing again and again, brutally forcing my way through the frail lines of humans. We were closing in on the palace, some part of me knew. Closer and closer, tier by tier. Although the humans dropped rocks to barricade us off, we climbed over them and kept going. We were inching ever closer… only a few tiers away from the castle, with its feast of weak killers, too fragile to fight…

At one point, I found myself fighting York again. He circled around me on his flier, and I spun with him. Slowly… slowly… suddenly, with lightning speed, he dove. I was ready. I dropped to the ground and rolled, then got hastily to my paws. York's attack had missed entirely.

As York turned toward me again, my tail whistled out to meet him. In quick succession, with no time to position myself properly, I struck at the killer several times. The first blow was badly placed, and it did nothing but jar him slightly. The second was no better, but it seemed to wind him. The third struck him across the chest, knocking him off balance. The fourth made him drop his sword, which clattered to the ground several feet away, in the doorway of a building. The fifth blow unseated him entirely. He landed on his backside on the street, looking quite undignified. All of this took only a second or two; my blows had come with such lightning speed that they were barely visible to the eye.

But York was not yet dead, not even close. He had only fallen a few feet, a fall which even to a human did not mean much. To York, fittest of humans, it meant nothing. Already he was scrambling to his feet, diving for his sword, his bat covering his back.

I struck the flier a blow, sending it careening into a nearby building. It almost fell out of the air entirely, regaining its balance just in time. In the same motion, I shot toward York, who had by this time reached his sword and straightened up, ready to fight. The world slowed down. I could see his arm reach back, prepare to swing, the sword come shooting forward… and my tail came up, knocking into the flat of the blade and sending it up, over York's head, and out of his hands. It clattered to the ground somewhere behind him. Again he was knocked down.

York's flier had been beset by a pair of lobsters, and was frantically dodging their claws. York himself was unarmed and defenseless. Now was my chance. Triumphantly, I pattered forward, raising my front claws above my head, relishing this, the final moment before the kill…

I probably would have killed him, too, if we hadn't been rudely interrupted right about then by the entire Regalian army.

* * *

Okay, one more thing. Please don't say that the Fangor and Shed part was a drug reference. In GtO, Ripred mentioned that "Fangor and Shed were excellent fighters, on the rare occasion they were sober" or something like that. It was the best way to incorporate it into the story that I could think of.


	14. Long Overdue Update

Wow… it's been so long since I last updated my story, I'd almost forgotten how to do it. Anyways, to all of you who've commented over the last couple of years, thank you so much for your reviews. I know I haven't responded to anyone's messages in a long time, mainly because I didn't know what to say. But don't worry- I'm well aware of how long it's been, and I know that my long absence is inexcusable.

I'm not sure I can fully explain why I gave up on Ripred- I guess because I was going through a difficult period in my life (not tragic or anything, but stifling and non-conductive to creativity). Also, the system of publishing chapter by chapter was a bit off-putting to me. It became all about reviews. I think that if I ever write another story for , I'll write the whole thing and then publish it chapter by chapter.

Even after I got my writing back on track, my priorities were elsewhere. Just a few weeks ago, I thought seriously for the first time in a while about returning to Ripred. But the story had, before I abandoned it, gotten so far removed from how I'd envisioned it that returning to it now would be difficult. There are parts of it that I'm embarrassed by, because they frankly weren't that good. To get the story to where it would satisfy me, I'd have to start over entirely, rewriting the first thirteen chapters before starting on anything new, and I'm really not interested in it enough anymore to put in that much effort.

So, at some time in the future, I may return to Ripred, but for now I'm done with this story. I'll leave the first thirteen chapters up, since a lot of you actually seem to like them for some reason. As for what happens to Ripred next, I'll leave that up to your fertile imaginations. If anyone wants to continue the story themselves, that's fine with me.

Thank you to everyone who's read the story, and offered your input- especially to Seraphania (Citizen of Fantasy at Heart) for sticking with me from the beginning. And a huge thank you to Rager13 for prompting me to write this. I'm sorry that I couldn't reply individually to everyone who's messaged me. This will have to do.


	15. Even Longer Overdue Update

To the guest reviewer who said my story inspired him/her to write about Twitchtip, I'm deeply flattered. (This story was, interestingly enough, partially inspired by another "biography"-style story about the Bane, so the cycle continues...) As to why I've stopped, again, I was going through a difficult period in my life. I also wasn't ready to write a full-length work like this. Back when I started I was fourteen and not yet in high school; now I'm nineteen and in college. So, I've changed a lot. Even though a lot of people seem to like this story, it's cringe-worthy to me now, and I think I could do a lot better if I gave it another try.

Which I've actually been considering. Ripred's character is still intriguing to me, and over the last few days I've been thinking about how I could do this story if I ever came back to it - I even have the beginning of a general plan laid out. Of course, I'm very busy these days with college and a lot of other things, but if I ever get the time to return to fanfiction and give Ripred another try, who knows? Watch this space, and someday you just might get lucky...


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